


Hold Me Closer, Sleepy Dancer

by baeconandeggs, surgicalfocus



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: BAE2017, M/M, Non-Terminal Illness, Swearing, Very Minor Character Death, brief mentions of murder and suicide, main characters have chronic illness--narcolepsy and multiple sclerosis, mild sexual content with tiny mention of breath-play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 83,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11001480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/surgicalfocus/pseuds/surgicalfocus
Summary: With a demanding job, a recent heartbreak and the everyday trials of a chronic illness, Chanyeol is convinced that romance no longer has a place in his little world — until the guy of his dreams suddenly waltzes into the picture and asks if he’d like to dance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author: anonymous  
> Prompt#: 58  
> Title: Hold Me Closer, Sleepy Dancer  
> Word Count: ~84,000  
> Side Pairing(s): Side Jongdae/Irene, side Amber/Key. Mentions of past Baekhyun/Suzy, past Chanyeol/Jongin  
> Rating: R  
> Warning(s):Swearing, mild sexual content with tiny mention of breath-play, ableist language, very brief mentions of murder and suicide, very minor character death. This fic features two main characters living with chronic illnesses — narcolepsy and multiple sclerosis, or MS. Neither illness is terminal, but both are incurable and symptoms can severely affect quality of life. Although I did my best to research, depictions of associated lifestyle and symptoms may not be completely accurate, and if you have either of these conditions or know someone with them, I apologise in advance for any possible misrepresentation. I am not a health professional, and any therapeutic or medical practices mentioned in this story should not be taken seriously.  
> Disclaimer: The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: Hi prompter! I may have taken your prompt and run away with it a little… or maybe a lot. (A lottle?) It’s probably not quite what you had in mind, but I hope my interpretation turns out to be a pleasant surprise. To anyone else who may read this fic, thank you and I hope you enjoy! Big thanks to the mods for all your hard work, and for always being so helpful and understanding.

 

**PLAYLIST:**

  * [Tiny Dancer - Elton John](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBWfUc5jKiM)
  * [Your Song - Elton John](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPRFDT0hFN8)
  * [I Sat By The Ocean - Queens of the Stone Age](https://soundcloud.com/qotsa/i-sat-by-the-ocean)
  * [I Love To Boogie - T. Rex](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PL-eI3AdOIg)
  * [Asleep - The Smiths](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dPGV0cols4)
  * [Don’t Panic - Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uxt-FnNy2I)
  * [Does Your Mother Know - ABBA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkL7Fkigfn8)
  * [Dancing Queen - ABBA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFrGuyw1V8s)
  * [Weather With You - Crowded House](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ag8XcMG1EX4)
  * [Cosmic Dancer - T. Rex](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5pw8BNPn6U)
  * [Breakdown - Mae](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYKl6dZs0JM)
  * [Magic - Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1PvBc2TOpE4)
  * [Rondo in A Minor, K.511 - Mozart (performed by András Schiff)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXLA4mffeU4)
  * [Sorrento Moon - Tina Arena](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gmvOlYFN62Y)
  * [Only Yesterday Main Theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogy5JVextNA)
  * [The Way You Look Tonight - Frank Sinatra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9ZGKALMMuc)
  * [I’m Beginning To See The Light - Ella Fitzgerald](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bfW7cUtgXA)
  * [Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - Doris Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUVT1NZtZPo)
  * [Summer Rain - Belinda Carlisle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HKtQgFov7s)
  * [My Baby - Cold Chisel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S2vyUd6vF4)
  * [Ship To Wreck - Florence + The Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9v8jLBrvug)
  * [You Were Meant For Me - Jewel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrK-IxLv-LU)
  * [Highest Place - The Kin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAMjPH2Qjtw)
  * [God Put A Smile Upon Your Face - Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhIVgSoJVRc)
  * [I’m On My Way - The Proclaimers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1yYDuSf3C4)
  * [First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHoYuVyUzdk)



 

 

 

 

_‘I hope you don't mind that I put down in words,_

_How wonderful life is, while you're in the world.’_ — Elton John, ‘Your Song’

 

 

 

 

_i._

“Hey, mister… sick helmet,” the kid with the red snapback called out, perched on the edge of the road with his two little turd friends on either side of him, the three of them noisily popping bubbles and sucking the gum back into their mouths. One of his friends said, “where’s your bike at?” and made motorcycle noises with his lips. They all snickered in unison.

“My bike is so awesome that it cannot be seen by the eyes of mere mortals,” Chanyeol said flatly as he walked past; they were clearly making fun of him, but no better response came to mind. Anyway, it _was_ a pretty sick helmet.

The bell went off when he walked through the door of Amber’s shop, signalling his arrival, but Amber didn’t look up right away. “Hey,” she said, only looking at Chanyeol for a second; then she saw the gold helmet on his head and had another look. A smirk curled the corners of her lips. “You know, C-3PO called. He said he wants his head back.”

“Yeah? Well if he calls again, tell him ‘finders keepers’.” Chanyeol took the helmet off, messing up his hair a little to un-flatten it. He’d seen the helmet while browsing in the new bike shop that had opened up on The Avenue — a pointless exercise, really, since he couldn’t even ride a bike anymore, and didn’t have a skateboard, or a scooter… in fact, nothing to justify the purchase of a helmet at all. So he didn’t know why he’d felt so compelled to walk out the door with it, being the type who hated drawing attention to himself, but there was just something about it — the flashy, shiny, LOOK-AT-ME-I’M-GOLD!-ness of the bloody thing — that made him feel brave somehow, and so he bought it.

“Will do.” Amber chewed her lip for a moment, looking thoughtful. “So what’s the occasion? Did you get new wheels?”

Chanyeol leaned against the front counter. He felt foggy in the head again, and attempted to blink the feeling away. “Not quite,” he said. Yet another one of his weird little coping behaviours… how was he going to explain himself this time? “You know how I fell and bumped my head really bad? Well, since I actually enjoy having a skull, I thought maybe I’ll start wearing this.” He rubbed his forehead, tracing over the bump with his fingers; it was much smaller now, but definitely still there. He hadn’t even tripped over like any normal clumsy dipshit would, that was the frustrating part; instead he’d fallen asleep mid-stride, tumbling all the way down the stairs leading into the station. The pain in his head hadn’t hit him until a little while after he woke up, sprawled on the tiled floor with other travellers stumbling and muttering and spilling their caffeinated drinks on him. He remembered lying there for a good few minutes, partly because he could never move right after waking up from a sleep attack, but also because he was still coming down from the high of the dream he’d had while he was under, a beautiful dream about dancing.

He’d been having a few dreams about dancing lately: always with someone he didn’t know, but somehow felt on the verge of recognising. He would be cruelly yanked back into consciousness just before he could figure it out.

“You’re gonna wear a helmet just to walk around in the street, huh.” Amber stopped price-tagging vintage sunglasses and frowned at him. “You don’t think that’s a bit extreme..?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Dunno. Is it?”

Amber shook her head. “I guess not. It’s just a shame you don’t have a sweet new Harley to go with it, but I guess that’s only a minor detail.”

“How many narcoleptics do you know who get around on motorbikes?” Chanyeol said, scoffing at the idea. Perhaps he _should_ buy one, he thought, and keep it parked out in the street for the sake of appearances.

“I don’t know anyone else with narcolepsy, to be fair… you’re one of a kind, my friend.” To Chanyeol’s relief, Amber changed the subject. “Anything you want to have a look at while you’re here? I just got a whole rack of smoking jackets in, and a stack of new hats. There’s some really cool stuff, if you don’t mind that most of it’s been scabbed from deceased estates.”

“I’ve been eyeing those shoes you’ve got in the window display, actually, but I’ve got no idea where I’d wear them.” They were silver, with three white stars on the toe cap, and another one on the back of the heel — the sweetest kicks Chanyeol had ever seen. Definitely boogie shoes… not that he did much boogie-ing, but walking past them every morning kind of made him want to start.

“You always go for the sparkly shit, don’t you?” Amber chuckled to herself. “I’ve got two pairs left of those, as new, dead-stock from the late seventies. The pair in the window’s a size fifty or something, so you might be in luck.” She got up from her seat and beckoned Chanyeol to follow her over to the front of the shop. “Come and try them on. They'll only fit a behemoth like you, anyway.”

“Excellent,” Chanyeol said, rubbing his hands together. He really liked Amber’s little boutique, which she co-ran with her boyfriend Kibum, and he stopped by to visit whenever he had the time to poke around. Shinee Shack sold vintage clothes and records, and all sorts of fun old-school stuff for decent prices — a real treasure cave, even if it stank of camphor and that peculiar smell old people have. The most important thing was that he felt safe hanging around in there. Amber was one of his closest friends, and wouldn’t ever judge him for randomly nodding off while browsing… although what Chanyeol did was more of a full-body collapse than a simple nodding off, and anything or anyone standing nearby was in danger of being taken down with him — a rolling rack of taffeta formal dresses one day, a hat-stand full of vintage fedoras on another. One time he’d passed out on top of the ladies footwear display, and had woken up with several pairs of pointy stilettos poking into his back. He sometimes thought it was a wonder Amber still let him into the shop at all, but Amber was cool like that, and he always helped her put things right afterwards. A few people in their sleepy seaside town had taken to calling Chanyeol insulting things like ‘spaz’ and ‘leaning tower’ behind his back (and occasionally to his face) and, for whatever reason, found his strange condition amusing, but Chanyeol knew that Amber didn’t share the joke; neither did his other best friend, Jongdae. Even Chanyeol found the whole thing more amusing than they did, and he was the one who had to live with it.

“Well it’s nearly two, and I'm pretty hangry.” Amber handed Chanyeol the brown shopping bag with his newly-purchased shoes inside — they’d fit him perfectly, what luck — and then she picked up an apple from underneath the counter, taking a bite out of it. “Why don’t I shut shop for a bit, and then we can go for a late lunch together or something,” she said, between juicy mouthfuls. “Have you eaten? I know a good place we can go.”

“Let me guess,” Chanyeol said. “Spags again..?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

They went to Spags a lot when they met up for lunch, mostly because it was close to Amber’s shop and the service was quick. The cafe’s real name was actually ‘Space’, but they called it Spags because the font used on the sign out the front was hard to read. While they were walking there together, casually chatting about nothing important, Chanyeol was startled by a small boy tripping over a crack in the pavement, falling right near his feet, and the shock of it triggered him — his knees felt like they’d been kicked in at the back and he dropped to the ground, all of his muscles turning to jelly. ‘Cataplexy’, this phenomenon was called, although Chanyeol preferred to call it ‘body melting’, since that was what it felt like. He’d done it enough times by now to work out that there was an art to the collapse: to not resist or remain rigid, but to make the body as lax as possible to avoid injury, fold himself up and fall in stages. He had little choice in where or how he landed, but would usually be granted a few seconds to prepare himself for the worst. Sometimes he fell asleep and sometimes he didn’t; just lay there fully conscious but paralysed up to his eyeballs, until the muscle weakness eventually wore off.

Either way, it was never a fun time. Chanyeol groaned and lay there in the middle of the walkway for a few minutes, until he could move again, with Amber looking down at him worriedly. “I am an effing disaster,” he muttered; he hated doing this in a public place. It was embarrassing, and the people around him usually overreacted to the situation. He’d already woken up three times in the back of an ambulance because someone had found him out cold somewhere and had called emergency — it was always awkward, having to explain to a pair of frazzled paramedics that he was fine, really, he just had this strange condition where he sometimes went to sleep in some very inconvenient places. To avoid further misunderstanding, he now had a medical alert bracelet with _I have narcolepsy_ engraved on it, which he wore on his left wrist.

“You’re not an effing disaster.” Amber bent down, holding out a hand to help Chanyeol get back up. “You’re just… a bit effing different.”

Chanyeol wanted to laugh at that, but he didn’t have the energy. He rarely laughed anymore; any sudden spike in emotion was a potential cataplexy trigger — not just surprise, but the tiniest giggle or flash of fear or anger was enough to send him to the ground in a boneless heap if he wasn’t careful. Even now that he was medicated and things were a bit better, it had become a habit to bring his hand up to his mouth and stifle a chuckle before it could escape. “Let’s just go, before something else happens.”

“Did you hear?” Amber said to him a little later, while they were in the middle of lunch. “They're finally gonna knock down Big Smokey at the old plant. But not until next year, I think.”

Chanyeol poked at his pasta with diminished interest. “Oh. When?”

“Dunno… no set date yet.”

“Are you gonna go watch it this time?”

Amber shrugged. “Probably. It was good fun watching Little Smokey fall, and Big Smokey’s nearly twice the size.”

Chanyeol breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping that the smell of coffee lingering in the air might miraculously wake him up a bit. “Meh. It’s a friggin eyesore… about time they got rid of it.”

“I know, right? It’s prime land… you don't build a massive steel plant on prime land, with a view of both the ocean _and_ the mountains — you build a big fucking resort on it.” Amber paused and took a bite of her chicken-salad sandwich, chewing with her mouth open. She swore a lot and could be a little uncouth, but that was what Chanyeol liked about her; she didn’t give a shit about other people’s opinions, and in fact seemed oblivious to them a lot of the time. “You’d think they’d have picked up on that earlier, hey.”

“Hmm. Apparently not.” Chanyeol remembered the day they’d demolished the smaller of the plant’s two chimney stacks — affectionately named ‘Little Smokey’ by the locals — shortly after it had ceased operations; a crowd of them all stood together on the rooftop beer garden of The Arms, the pub with the best view in the centre of town, and watched Little Smokey topple over onto a clear space on the abandoned site, falling into a cloud of dust and rubble. How they'd done it so that no surrounding buildings were crushed, Chanyeol didn't know, but he had to admit it was impressive. When it fell, people clapped and cheered from their balconies, while others stood out in the street, recording the spectacle on their phones. Since then, the little port town of Avoca had been undergoing a makeover of sorts, and sentiments among its residents were mixed. Chanyeol knew that for some, the plant closure had been more bitter than sweet; it had meant the loss of hundreds of jobs, on one hand, but it also meant the promise of cleaner air and new developments. There was a beautiful beach just outside the harbour, still mostly unspoiled by the town’s industrial past, and it was already being touted as the next great seaside tourist spot — Avoca would no longer be a place to pass through on one's way to somewhere better, but a destination in itself. You could already see it happening: all the new cafes along The Avenue, their brightly coloured awnings flapping in the salty breeze; the fancy hair salon; the new pre-school they built right next to the old cemetery. The council had just put a new sign up on the side of the road leading into the town centre, with _Welcome to Avoca_ in big bold letters, and beneath it in smaller text, _a “pleasant place” to be_ , an assertion perhaps negated by the odd use of quotes. Shinee Shack would have some stiff competition with all the trendy boutiques opening up, and Chanyeol sometimes wondered if Amber was worried, but if she was, she showed no sign of it.

“It's just that ever since... _‘you know’_ … you’ve sort of been hiding yourself away a bit,” Amber was saying, nudging Chanyeol out of his daydreams.

Chanyeol almost groaned aloud at the phrase. “Which ‘you know’ are we referring to this time?” he said flatly, “the diagnosis, or Jongin?” A part of him liked making his friends uncomfortable by forcing them to address these tender topics directly; they were always treading around him too carefully, as though he were standing there asleep and they were afraid to wake him up. Finding out officially that something was amiss in regards to his health hadn’t drastically changed Chanyeol’s life — not accounting for all the visits to specialists, and all the brain scans, and the sleep studies, and the strange medications that left him either a drooling zombie or wired enough to power a small country, but rarely somewhere in between. Before the day Dr. Kim passed a _‘so you have narcolepsy…now what?’_ pamphlet to him across the desk, Chanyeol had already been symptomatic for years. All he had now was the questionable advantage of putting a proper name to his problems.

“Uh, bit of both…?” Amber swallowed a mouthful and said, “you haven't been getting out much, that’s all. I’m just worried that you're trying to deal with stuff by isolating yourself instead of facing it head on. Is it because you’re afraid of getting hurt?”

Chanyeol folded his arms defensively. “What makes you think that..?”

“Dunno. Although the fact that you’re now wearing a helmet just to walk around outside does make one ponder.”

“That's only for head protection,” Chanyeol said. “You saw what I did back there; that can happen at any time. Wouldn't you rather I walked around in a helmet than not walk around at all?”

Amber sighed around another bite of chicken salad. “I suppose so..”

“I’m just so fucking tired all the time,” Chanyeol said in a quiet voice; he stared blankly out the window behind Amber’s platinum-blonde head, at all the people frolicking down the street with their endless stores of energy. “If you want the truth, I’m worried that it’s starting to affect my musical ability… I haven’t composed anything new in ages. And I keep falling asleep during long one-on-one sessions.”

That was what he’d feared the most, initially: his condition affecting his professional life. There was always the issue of people having to put up with his difficulties staying awake; most were good-natured about it, but he still felt guilty. He couldn’t help wondering sometimes if being a sick therapist ate away some of his credibility, especially in a field that relied so heavily on the rapport he had with his clients, but he tried his hardest to dismiss the notion as him being paranoid. The collection of piano pieces he’d spent so many hours working on since his university days — which he’d composed as a therapeutic aid for sufferers of sleep disorders, and hoped to record and release one day — had taken the backseat when he was declared ‘officially’ unwell. He could now just barely manage juggling his roles as music therapist and occasional piano/guitar tutor, and that was all; it left him little time or energy to work on new compositions, or to pick up any new hobbies, or even to try his hand at dating again — not that he was ready for that.

“Maybe you just need to step away from composing for a while,” Amber said, looking thoughtful. “Don’t you have something else that makes you happy, something apart from music?”

“These questions are too intense for Sunday lunchtime conversation.” Chanyeol sighed and put his head in his hands. “I’m just trying to stay awake, Amber,” he muttered into his bowl of congealing carbonara, “that's it. That’s all I have the energy for right now.”

“Well, you still have to connect with other people once in a while, outside the context of work,” Amber said. “When was the last time you even came out with us? I know music therapy is a social job, but you’re becoming reclusive in your personal life, and it’s not good for you. It can’t be good for your creativity either; maybe that’s why you’re struggling with your compositions. Don’t you ever get bored, or lonely…?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Nope. Just tired.”

“I’m not telling you to go out and meet someone new,” Amber said cautiously. “I would never tell you to do that, unless you were ready for it. We just want to see you happy, that’s all.”

“I’m definitely not ready for it.” Chanyeol nearly shuddered at the thought. “Who cares about love, anyway? Love sucks, man — just a second-hand emotion. No offence to you and Kibum.”

“Thanks for the insight, Tina Turner,” Amber said flatly. Her expression softened a little. “Hasn’t there been much improvement with the meds?”

Chanyeol thought about it for a moment. “Well, yeah… it’s definitely better than it was without them. Although the side-effects aren’t so fun.”

“So talk to Jongdae, then. He’s the potions master, not me.”

“I will.” Chanyeol smiled to show Amber that it wasn’t a big deal. “I can take care of myself, you know. You guys don’t have to worry about me so much.”

Amber nodded. “Okay. Well, I should probably get back to the shop soon. You need anything while I’m here?”

“No, I’m all good.” Chanyeol finished the last of his orange juice and stood up from his chair. “I’d better go too — I’ve got a piano lesson at 4.30, and a bunch of session plans to write up before tomorrow. Gotta fit a grocery shop in there somewhere as well. I’ll start eating my own pets if I don't stock up soon.”

“Pets? I thought you were allergic.”

“I have a goldfish, and cacti,” Chanyeol said. “Well, _a_ cactus. The other one died.”

“You need any help with the shopping?” Amber asked, ignoring this last remark.

“No!” Chanyeol’s response was immediate.

Amber raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. “You sure about that…?”

“Yes, I'm sure. I'm feeling absolutely fine and awake right now, and it's not even a full shop. Just the vitals, Amber — bread and milk, fruit and veg, the simple Bear Necessities — so you can _‘forget about your Worries and your Strife’.”_ Chanyeol smiled and added, “I’m using that song with one of my kids groups at the moment, it’s been stuck in my bloody head for a week.”

Amber checked her phone, frowning at the time. “Maybe I’d better come with you… I can spare another fifteen minutes or so. We all know what happened the last time you went to the supermarket alone—”

Groaning in exasperation, Chanyeol slapped some notes down on the table to cover the entire bill. “I don't need your help, lalalalala!” he yelled, jamming his fingers in his ears and rushing out of the cafe before Amber had the time to argue — about him paying for lunch _or_ the hidden perils of solo grocery expeditions — but he did hear her call out “may the Force be with you!” just before he got outside.

Out in the street, Chanyeol put his stupid golden helmet on, fastening the buckle beneath his chin, and walked down the road smiling to himself, ignoring any funny looks he might've got from other people, his new shoes in their brown paper shopping bag swinging against his leg. He thought about his well-meaning but overbearing best friends. Sometimes it felt like he needed to constantly fight them off with a stick; one of them was always checking up on him, doing this and that for him, calling him up to make sure he remembered to take his meds or dropping by to see if he was alright — sometimes with food they’d cooked for him, since Chanyeol was nervous about spending too long in the kitchen these days, afraid he might fall asleep with a knife in his hand or with the stove on (stranger things had happened). It had been that way for years, now: his two best friends always looking out for him, and never asking anything in return. They were both older than Chanyeol, and treated him like their little brother. There was nothing he could do for them, anyway, that they couldn’t already do themselves.

He still didn’t really know what the big deal was. Narcolepsy was a wild ride, an unpredictable and untamed beast, but that didn't mean he was completely helpless. Chanyeol had many a way of coping with his situation; he tried out new coping methods all the time, anything to keep his independence intact for as long as possible. He still felt guilty sometimes that he’d made the decision to move so far away from his family, but now it seemed like a blessing — if his mother ever found out about the true severity of his condition, she would be moving in as his personal nurse within the week. Seaside living suited Chanyeol much better than his city upbringing had; life here was smaller, slower and safer, he had a decent amount of work, and to top it off, there was the beach only a short bus ride from his home.

Anyway, it was a beautiful sunny Sunday — unusually warm for this time of year — and nothing could shit on Chanyeol’s good mood. He’d go down to the beach and take a walk first, he decided, before he braved the obstacle course that was the supermarket; he needed to make the most of these simple pleasures before Avoca got its long-awaited facelift, and was subsequently ruined by hordes of sloppy holidayers. Dr. Kim was always suggesting more exercise as a way to combat excessive daytime sleepiness, and that was all well and good, but the last time Chanyeol had tried to go for a proper run, he’d ended up with a face full of concrete and six stitches in his forehead. Now he stuck to walking.

“The good thing about narcolepsy,” Dr. Kim had said to him at the time, “is that it won’t kill you. The bad thing is that it won’t kill you.” Dr. Kim could eat those words, as far as Chanyeol was concerned — in the past year alone, he’d had more near-death experiences than he could count on both hands, and even going for a ‘harmless’ walk could be fraught with danger. The safest option left to him was walking along the sand; he was less likely to injure himself if he fell over, just as long as he didn’t stray too close to the shoreline. He’d made that mistake once before, collapsing right next to the water, and an attractive lady lifeguard had dragged him out and given him the kiss of life — and then asked him for his number while he was still in the middle of coughing up salt water and bits of seaweed. Chanyeol had been forced to explain to her — politely, in between hacking his guts out — that he was flattered, really, but she wasn’t his ‘type’. And it was true, he did prefer his own kind, but it was more about sparing her the trouble than anything else.

He didn’t need someone thinking they had to save him all the time, and she probably didn’t need that burden, either. He was doing just fine on his own, at least for the moment.

Chanyeol ended up rescheduling his private piano lesson that afternoon, saying he wasn’t well, and then spent the rest of the day on the beach instead. He didn’t know why; he wasn’t the sort of person to act on his impulses. After walking for a while, he sat down on the sand with his helmet next to him and his knees drawn up to his chest, breathing in the fresh sea air and wrinkling his nose at the faint whiff of dried seaweed. The sand was cool beneath him, the sun hidden but shining through the spaces between long white clouds, the resulting effect like ribbons of gold in the sky. Two trawlers out in the bay today. A tiny crab scuttled around in the sand near his feet, and Chanyeol wiggled his toes at it in a kind of greeting. A flash of movement caught his eye then, and he saw that there was someone a way further down, closer to the shore, a young man with bright red hair. From a distance, he appeared to be dancing.

Chanyeol watched the redhead dance, mesmerised by the shape of his body beneath the tight white t-shirt and denim cut-offs he wore. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen him, either — the guy came down to the beach often, always to dance by himself. Chanyeol had walked past him a few times on one of his strolls, and usually ended up looking away shyly because he was really cute — well, ‘cute’ wasn’t the right word. He was beautiful, and it sometimes made Chanyeol want to rethink his current state of voluntary bachelordom, if only for a moment. Clearly he had a thing for dancers; Jongin was a dancer too. The redhead was dancing alone again today, practising some kind of routine, and Chanyeol could tell by the way he held his arms up that it was the sort of dancing that needed a partner. Someone else should have been there to complete the picture, the other half of the pair… but he was too sleepy to think about it for too long. Before he nodded off, tilting over sideways into the sand, he reached out in front of him so that it looked like the beautiful redhead was twirling around in the palm of his hand, and began to dream of another world, one where that someone could have been him.

 

 

 

 

_ii._

When Chanyeol got home that evening, he fell asleep on the sofa with the television still on, and woke up early on Monday morning to find Jongin trashing his apartment. He was ransacking the place, throwing things around without giving any thought or care to Chanyeol's presence. What a racket he was making — chucking CDs and books across the room, tossing Chanyeol’s Bowie and Elton records like frisbees, upending the table and chairs — anything that wasn't bolted down going straight to the floor. Chanyeol lay there and watched him, unable to move or speak. He was paralysed, but not with fear; perhaps he _should_ have been scared, but on some level it was like he knew there was something odd about the situation — that perhaps what he was seeing wasn't really there. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up to find Jongin doing something like that, either, and so it all came off as more of an inconvenience than an immediate threat.

Jongin interrupted Chanyeol’s thoughts by smashing one of the dining chairs against the floor, making him flinch at the sound. He rolled his eyes and scrunched them shut — the only way he was able to express his displeasure at the situation. His hands lay by his sides, but he couldn’t even clench them into fists. He really liked those chairs, too; now he would have to get a replacement and spend another bloody two hours putting it together again. What a fucking mess he was making… why hadn't any of the neighbours complained about the noise?

When Chanyeol opened his eyes again, he looked around and saw that he was alone. His confusion only lasted a couple of seconds before reality sank in — just another hallucination, he realised, the din of splintering wood and smashing crockery still ringing in his ears. Some part of him had known it all along. He experienced that sort of thing fairly often, especially upon waking up — ‘hypno-something hallucinations’, Doctor Kim had called them... Chanyeol couldn’t recall the term exactly. There was a lot of narcolepsy jargon he was probably supposed to remember, but didn’t. Some of the hallucinations were frightening, especially back when he first started having them; he sometimes still hallucinated vividly about people trying to rob him or strangle him to death, and often they were people he knew or had some sort of contact with in real life, but he was slowly getting used to all of these peculiarities now. He lay there on his back for a while longer, watching the ceiling fan spinning, listening to the gentle _thwoop thwoop_ sound of the blades slicing through the air. Strength gradually returned to his limbs, the paralysis melting away; slowly, he peeled himself away from the sofa and got up.

He thought about the hallucination again while he stood in the kitchen, drinking his morning coffee. Until that day, he hadn't had a reason to think about Jongin in a while. Jongin still Skype-called him every so often, and seemed eager to maintain contact, although a long-distance relationship wasn’t something Chanyeol had ever wanted to get involved in; even so, they hadn’t spoken in a couple of weeks, and nothing came to mind that could have prompted the strange vision. Chanyeol still missed him, but he was well past the pining stage, and had been for some time.

Jongin moving overseas to join the Royal Ballet had initially been a sore spot for Chanyeol, but like the narcolepsy, it was something he’d learned to live with. He’d tried his hardest to hold no grudges; they were together for three years, and although Jongin was six years younger, Chanyeol understood that the shelf-life of a professional ballet dancer could be short-lived, and he loved and respected Jongin enough to wish him the best in his endeavours. But the fact that Jongin hadn’t told him about it until the last minute was what hurt the most — a solo trip to London to attend entrance exams being covered up with the excuse that he was ‘visiting relatives’, the existence of which he’d never mentioned before. He’d broken the news to Chanyeol upon his return, saying he was moving over within a fortnight, and it left Chanyeol winded for a long time afterwards. A part of him was sure he’d never fully recover, even if the wound had mostly closed over by now. Jongin had insisted at the time that Chanyeol’s health had nothing to do with his decision, but Chanyeol still wondered if this was true; whether he liked it or not, narcolepsy coloured everything he did, and he knew even patient people like Jongin had their limits. But he tried not to speculate too much about Jongin's reasons for leaving anymore — what was done, was done. Rinsing his cup out in the sink, he pushed the morning's unsettling experience to the back of his mind, ready to forget all about it and get on with his day.

He left home a little earlier to see Jongdae at the pharmacy, planning to pick up his medication on the way to work. He and Jongdae sometimes met up for coffee or a quick bite when they weren’t too busy, but this was increasingly rare, and it was nice to have any excuse to drop by and say hello. There was already a line of people waiting when he arrived because Jongdae was the only pharmacist on duty; Chanyeol caught his friend’s eye and gave him a little wave, joining the end of the queue to wait his turn.

Most people were quick about handing their scripts over, but one old man had come to complain about a purchase, and it was just Chanyeol’s luck that he was stuck behind him. He had a session scheduled in an hour’s time, with a group of kids with special needs, who were some of Chanyeol’s favourite people to work with. Some of them were non-verbal, others only partly so, and communication had always been a struggle; but they all had an appreciation for music, and when they all played together it was like they were speaking in a different way — the joy they found in music was obvious, and did not need to be expressed in words. Chanyeol always found his sessions with this particular group to be the most challenging, and also some of the most rewarding. But he still had a bit of prep to do before the session began; he eyed his watch nervously, and shot Jongdae a pleading look over the top of the old guy’s head.

“These stool softeners are far too big for any normal person to swallow,” the old guy was ranting at Jongdae. “I was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. And they taste awful.”

Jongdae glanced at the box in the old man’s hand, and gave him a withering look. “That’s because they’re suppositories, sir. You’ve been popping them into the wrong end, I’m afraid.”

At this information, the old man turned on the heel of his orthopaedic sandals and hoofed it out of the shop, red-faced and muttering. Chanyeol let out a long-held sigh of relief.

Jongdae held out his hand for Chanyeol’s script, opening and closing it expectantly. “Alright, friend, what’s your poison?” He peered at the script, disappeared out the back for a few minutes, and came out again carrying a plastic tray with a small box of tablets in it. “How’s this stuff been working for you, anyway?”

“It gives me palpitations, which I hate,” Chanyeol said. “But it does help with the alertness.”

“Mmm. Might need to talk to your specialist about that.” Jongdae frowned at Chanyeol through his glasses. “And you’re still on the sodium oxybate as well?”

Chanyeol nodded. His mornings and evenings were now a blur of various oddly-named substances. “Yeah, that stuff is a godsend for the cataplexy, but it only works properly if I wake up in time to take the second dose. It knocks me out so hard I keep sleeping through my alarm.”

Jongdae tutted, shaking his head. “You need a new bed-buddy… someone who can shake you awake when you sleep through. And give you special cuddles and all that, of course.”

“Yeah? And I’ll probably just scare him off with my weird sleeping habits,” Chanyeol muttered, handing Jongdae his card.

“Ahh, don’t worry about stuff like that.” Jongdae rang through the purchase, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. “If a guy genuinely likes you for who you are, you could probably sleep in a coffin and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid. Who knows… maybe you can meet him tonight when you come out with us.”

Chanyeol frowned. “Come out where?”

Jongdae looked past Chanyeol at the growing line of people waiting to be served. “Look, this isn’t the time or place to talk, but Amber said she’d call you about it.” He popped Chanyeol’s medication into a white paper bag, folded it closed and handed it to him with a wink and a cheeky smile. “Might see you later then, dancing queen.”

When Chanyeol left the pharmacy, he checked his phone and saw a missed call and a text from Amber that said 'CALL ME, BABY', followed by a rainbow of emoji love hearts. Sighing, he called her back. She answered on the second ring. “We’re gonna try out that new club tonight. You interested?”

“Good morning to you too.” Holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder, Chanyeol shoved the paper bag into his backpack. “And what new club might that be..?”

“You know that old shit-hole, After Five? Well, it’s been given a trendily ironic disco-revival makeover.” Amber sounded smug through the phone. “Apparently the dance floor lights up and everything… sounds right up your alley, I'd have thought, seventies tragic that you are.”

Chanyeol laughed through his nose — about as close as he got to actual laughter these days. After Five had been a trashy, rundown old nightclub located across the road from the beach; sticky-floored and seedy, it was once frequented mostly by underage locals lured in by the cheap drinks, and the fact that the bouncers never cared enough to card anyone. Now that the average age of the Avoca resident was increasing, the disco theme was probably an attempt to win the attentions of an older crowd, Chanyeol thought. “Right,” he said. “And has it occurred to you that today is Monday..?”

“Oh, you don’t have to stay out too late,” Amber said, in a dismissive tone. “Why don't you come? Kibum and Joohyun are coming too. Don’t worry, we’ll all make sure you don't end up on the floor somewhere. It’ll be fun.”

Chanyeol sighed, wondering how he could get himself out of this; he never had the energy to go out at night anymore. It was true that his social life was mostly down the tubes, he couldn’t deny that — his friends, all being in their early thirties like he was, sometimes still liked to go raging of an evening, but once the clock struck nine you could pretty much write Chanyeol off until the next day. Anyway, it was a weeknight. “I think I'll pass… you know I have to be in bed at a decent hour, or I’ll be up shit creek tomorrow. I have my first session at eight in the morning.”

“Aww, come on; we never see you anymore,” Amber whined. “You can leave early if you get tired. Don’t make me send you a barrage of texts until you change your mind.”

“Mmm… maybe,” Chanyeol said, still not convinced — he knew he was only going to end up being the fifth wheel again. He gave his best non-committal response; he had plenty of those in the bank just for occasions like this. “I’ll see how I go.”

Fast forward a few hours and Chanyeol ended up at the club anyway, ready to break in his new boogie shoes — his friends having worn him down, as they always seemed to do. ‘Starship’ was the new name of the place, and Amber wasn’t kidding about the disco revamp; for a minute or two after walking inside, Chanyeol wondered if he’d stepped into some kind of portal leading right back into 1978. He didn’t actually know what 1978 looked like, being born nearly a decade later, but it all matched the image inside his head perfectly: the light-up dance floor, the people in their tight outfits and big hairdos, all the glitter and sequins, flashes of gold and silver. There were spangled drapes and enormous disco balls spinning on the ceiling, reflecting squares of light on the walls and everyone’s faces. A light sheen of sweat on every visible skin surface; there was a lot of skin on show, and for good reason. Chanyeol loosened the collar of his shirt, trying to let a bit of air in. It was fucking hot in there.

Eventually his two so-called best buddies kindly ditched him to dance with their partners, exactly as predicted. Chanyeol didn’t blame them; he probably would have done the same thing, if he’d had someone to dance with. He quickly spotted a clear patch of floor on the far corner of the room, and made a beeline for the safety of the shadows; there he stood alone with his back glued to the wall, sipping his Coke and observing the action from a comfortable distance.

It was a strange sensation, he thought, feeling completely alone in a room stuffed full of sweaty, gyrating bodies. Too shy to dive right in, he stayed where he was and watched them all dance. Sometimes people would get in the middle of the floor to do solos, and everyone would form a circle around them, clapping and cheering them on. At one point a young man got up by himself, parting the crowd of revellers, herding them away to the edges of the floor. He was dancing alone to an Abba song called _‘Does Your Mother Know’_ , and everyone else stood still and watched him, as though commanded to do so by some silent entity. Chanyeol could barely tear his eyes away long enough to take in their expressions of awe and delight and envy; the lights made the dancer’s red hair burn bright like fire, and Chanyeol knew almost as soon as he laid eyes on him that it was the guy from the beach. Apart from the hair being a giveaway, the way he moved was unmistakeable: in that beautiful, fluid way, as though he were made of water.

Something about the way the redhead danced made Chanyeol want to dance too. He could see the light in his eyes, the brilliance of his smile, how he loved this more than anything else — he wanted to love something, or someone, as much as that guy loved to dance. His joy was contagious, and it didn’t even occur to Chanyeol at first that, for once, he didn’t have to make a conscious effort to stay awake. The redhead looked right at him, then. _Come over here_ , his eyes seemed to say. He winked. Chanyeol looked around to see who he was really looking at, but there were too many people surrounding him to tell. Thinking he was mistaken, he shrugged it off, and looked up again just in time to see the redhead dancing over in his direction, giving a number of people high-fives on the way.

“Hey. You kinda look like you need rescuing,” he said, yelling over the throbbing beat of _‘Disco Inferno’_. He had a sort of half-smile on his face, and Chanyeol stared down at his shoes, too shy to look him in the eye for very long. At the same time, it was hard _not_ to look at him. He was even more gorgeous up close — bright, bewitching eyes smudged with black liner, soft-looking lips and a smile to die for. A diamond stud sparkled in one side of his nose, and another in his ear. He wasn’t very tall, but leanly muscular and broad-shouldered; half the buttons had come undone on his fitted white shirt, revealing most of his chest, and his black jeans looked so tight it was a wonder he could even move in them at all. But they hugged his hips and thighs perfectly, and Chanyeol realised he’d never envied an article of clothing so much in his life. He was suddenly very aware of his quickening heartbeat.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled. It was more a baring of all his teeth than a genuine smile. “I’m fine, really. Just taking a break.”

The guy laughed, his pretty eyes crinkling into disappearance. “A break from _what_ , the zero dancing you've been doing..?” A playful lip-bite gave Chanyeol another glimpse of perfect white teeth. He tried to think of an appropriate response to the teasing when the guy suddenly grabbed his hand — even his hands were beautiful, Chanyeol noticed. “C’mon,” he said, pulling Chanyeol away from the refuge of his dark corner, barely giving him the time to put his half-finished Coke down on the floor. “Come and dance with me. A tall cutie like yourself has no business trying to be a wallflower.”

“I don't know… I don’t really dance much.” Chanyeol hoped his palms weren't as sweaty as they felt, and was relieved when the redhead let go of his hand, apparently trusting that he would follow. And yet he could have escaped, if he really wanted to… but maybe he didn’t want to.

“You'll have the time of your life, don't worry,” the redhead yelled back at him, “I promise you’re in good hands.” Chanyeol found it very hard not to stare at his arse, at the way it bounced and swayed in time with the beat as he walked. While the guy’s attention was elsewhere, he quickly removed his narcolepsy bracelet. He didn’t know why he felt the need to do this, exactly; it was almost an instantaneous action, something he barely thought about before his fingers began undoing the clasp, stuffing the jewellery into his back pocket.

As soon as they hit the floor, Chanyeol did his best to match the redhead’s moves. He did pretty well, he thought; he wasn’t much of a dancer, but he used to go out dancing with Jongin occasionally, and he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it. For a moment he wondered if it was the shoes — something about them did make him feel more confident, and maybe a bit of extra confidence was all he needed.

“Great shoes, by the way,” the redhead said, as though reading Chanyeol’s mind. “I’ve been admiring them ever since I looked over at you before. They’re certainly not wallflower shoes.”

Chanyeol rewarded the compliment with a smile. “Thanks.” It seemed appropriate to reciprocate, and so he added, “you’re a really fantastic dancer.”

The redhead laughed at that. He was even more beautiful when he laughed. The disco lights on the ceiling made his hair change colour, from red to violet to fuchsia to tangerine and then back to red again. “I should hope so, considering I teach it,” he said. “Latin-ballroom’s my specialty. You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

“Yeah? Well, I have a confession to make,” Chanyeol said, yelling over the music. “I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s fine,” the redhead said, “just make it up as you go along. That’s the best fun, anyway.” Suddenly he spun around, and Chanyeol did the same. Then he sank to the floor in the splits — which Chanyeol definitely didn’t do, but he did come up with some alternative moves of his own. There wasn’t time to question all of this, why or how it was happening; his body was acting beyond his control, as usual, but this was a different kind of losing control. This was letting loose, something Chanyeol realised he’d completely forgotten how to do, and now that he remembered, he found it strangely addictive. Maybe he was dreaming again, and none of it was real. It would have explained a lot — how happy he was, and how much energy he had, but this thought was as far as he got before the rhythm consumed him anew.

“You're a complete madman,” the redhead said, when they moved to the side of the dance floor to take a break. He seemed out of breath, and almost looked like he was in pain. “But I’m really having a lot of fun dancing with you. Way more fun than I've had in a while.”

“Right back at you," Chanyeol said. “The dancing part, anyway. I don't think you're a complete madman.”

The redhead laughed, and then winced; he bent over a little, rubbing the small of his back with one hand. “You’ve got guts, keeping up with me out there. I’ll give you that.”

“It's not something I’d usually do, believe me.” Chanyeol smiled, but the smile quickly faded away. “Are you alright? You look like you’re about to keel over.”

The redhead nodded. “I’m okay. I mean you nearly danced me into an early grave, but other than that, I’m fine.”

Chanyeol almost burst out laughing, but had to stop himself — this wasn’t a good time or place for cataplexy to come knocking. “Sorry about that,” he said with a sheepish smile. In addition to disco hits, the club also played a mixture of pop and Rn'B, and it was just his luck, really, that the next song the DJ segued into was Ginuwine's _‘Pony’_. Chanyeol could feel the bass vibrating all through his body, and he knew he was doomed. “Oh, I fucking _love_ this song!” the redhead roared in excitement; he stood right in front of Chanyeol, facing away from him, rolling his hips to the beat so that his bum rubbed against Chanyeol's upper thigh — and thankfully no higher, since he wasn’t tall enough, although that made it no less awkward. Chanyeol chewed his bottom lip, trying not to stare at the perfect backside grinding against him. He was far too sober for this, but one of the downsides of his medication was having to steer clear of alcohol. He stood there helplessly with his eyes darting around the room, wondering if any of his friends were watching him right now and possibly — probably — having a chuckle at his expense, but they were nowhere to be seen, completely swallowed up by the crowd.

The redhead turned around to face Chanyeol again, flinging both arms around his neck. Chanyeol could really smell him now that he was so close — a sexy, heady mixture of cologne and sweat. He wondered if the guy was drunk, but he couldn’t really smell any alcohol on him. Maybe he was just naturally flirty.

“What’s up?” the redhead murmured in Chanyeol’s ear. “You’ve gone all stiff..”

Chanyeol’s heart leapt into his throat. “Um, excuse me..?”

“I mean you’re really tense all of a sudden… relax. You can put your hands here if you want.” The redhead took both of Chanyeol’s hands and placed them tentatively on his waist; then he put his arms around Chanyeol’s neck again, holding him closer. The way his hips moved when he danced was the most mesmerising thing Chanyeol had ever seen, and it was probably a good thing he couldn’t really see them right now, but his hands could feel every movement, and in a way this was even more distracting. “Come a little closer, if you like. Why so shy?”

“Okay.” Chanyeol wondered if the guy was going to kiss him, he was that close; he wouldn’t have minded either way. He felt warm breath against his ear and neck again.

“You want me to go away?” the redhead said, “because I will, if I’m bothering you. You can tell me.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” Chanyeol replied, and he meant it. Anyway, if the guy left him, he would only end up back in the corner all by himself again. He was pleasantly surprised at how wide awake he still felt — a rare blessing, especially for this time of night. He wondered if he still had the ability to flirt; he hadn’t really flirted much since the early Jongin days. “I have to say, though… if you're gonna grind on me like that, then you ought to at least buy me a drink.”

The redhead laughed at this, a hearty laugh with his head thrown back. “You know, I don't usually say this to people I've been anonymously dance-humping, but you’re really cute. Maybe I should give you my number.”

Chanyeol looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Oh. Okay, then… that’s cool.”

The redhead smiled coyly, his head tilted a little to one side. “Let’s go outside where it’s a bit quieter, and I’ll buy you that drink. There’s a nice little outdoor bar there.”

“Oh, I was only joking,” Chanyeol said, “actually, I don’t—”

“…You don’t drink?” the redhead laughed again; a warm, deep, husky sort of sound. “My bad. Well, that’s fine — I’ll buy you another Coke then. Or whatever you like that’s not alcoholic.”

“Surprise me,” Chanyeol said as he followed the redhead outside. He was relieved to not be asked why he didn’t drink; people usually wanted to know why, even though it wasn’t their business. The redhead led him out into a little courtyard surrounded by palms, ferns and other greenery, with strings of fairy lights twinkling in their branches. There were a number of tall wooden tables with bar stools arranged around them, and Chanyeol sat down at a vacant table while the redhead went over to the outdoor bar to buy their drinks. He came back a couple of minutes later, with a beer in one hand and a glass of something reddish-orange in the other, decorated with an orange slice and a pink cocktail umbrella.

“Here,” he said, handing the drink to Chanyeol. “It’s a virgin Sex On The Beach. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so… I hope you like ‘em fruity.”

Chanyeol accepted the glass and thanked him with a shy smile. “A virgin Sex On The Beach, huh… how does that work?” He took a sip and nodded his approval. “It’s really good.”

The redhead laughed. “Maybe ‘Holding Hands On The Beach’ would be a better name.” He made himself comfortable on the stool opposite Chanyeol. “So… do you come here a lot?”

Chanyeol shook his head. “This is my first time, actually. It’s… an interesting place, to say the least.”

“No way… I’ve only been living here for half a year, and I’ve probably been to this place fifty times already. I love it.” The redhead paused to sip his beer, licking froth from his pretty pink lips. He seemed to lick his lips a lot, drawing Chanyeol’s eye to a tiny mole above the corner of his mouth. “I come here to ‘let my hair down’, so to speak,” he said. “I love ballroom, it’s my life… but it can be so stuffy and disciplined, and sometimes I just need a break from all of that.”

“Well, I think it’s very elegant, the way you dance,” Chanyeol replied. Then, realising what he’d just said, he added, “I mean, I’ve never seen _you_ dance that way… although I’m sure you dance very well, that’s not what I meant to say—”

“It’s okay, I know what you mean.” The redhead laughed softly, his eyes twinkling like the fairy lights in the trees, and then he was quiet for a moment. “You know, you should come for a lesson some time. You never know, you might really enjoy it.”

Chanyeol raised both eyebrows. “Me..?”

“Sure. Why not?” The redhead shrugged and tilted his beer glass to his lips for another long swallow, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “The studio offers trial lessons for free. I teach beginner-level classes on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, 6 to 7 o’clock. If you ever want to come along and sit in on one, even just to watch, Luna’s School of Dance is where you’ll find me.” He smiled. “Or ‘LSD’, as we like to call it for short.”

“You know, I still don’t know your name,” Chanyeol said shyly, and the redhead’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh, of course — how rude of me. You see, I already feel like I’ve known you a while, and I almost forgot the need to introduce myself… isn’t that funny?” He smiled and held out his hand for Chanyeol to shake. “I’m Baekhyun. And you are?”

 _Baekhyun_. Even his name sounded like music. “I’m Chanyeol.” Chanyeol took Baekhyun’s hand and shook it. It was soft and cool and well-kept, with long, elegant fingers, and Chanyeol didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he probably held on to that hand a fraction longer than he should have.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said, still smiling at him as their hands eventually parted.

“Nice to meet—” Chanyeol began, and then he stopped. He was starting to slur his words. The backdrop of the bar faded away, his eyes began to roll back in his head. The music slowed down, the lights fizzled out, and then, nothing but darkness.

When he awoke again, peeling himself away from the tabletop, it took him a while to remember where he was. He looked around, blinking the blur of sleep away from his eyes. He was surrounded by groups of people sitting at tables, drinking and chatting. Twinkling fairy lights, the breeze rustling the leaves of the palms and ferns planted around the perimeter of the little courtyard. People standing in line at the bar, others walking away with drinks in each hand. The night sky above, ink-black and dusted with stars. On the table in front of him was a half-empty glass of orange liquid with a soggy cocktail umbrella in it, and the sight of it gave Chanyeol’s memory the jumpstart it needed, bringing back thoughts of the beautiful redhead he’d danced with earlier — or maybe that had been a dream. What was his name again? Where the hell had he gone..?

Chanyeol put his head back down on the table and groaned. Of all the fucking times for this to happen… he didn’t even get the guy’s number before he took off. He felt someone tap him on the shoulder and lifted his head again, blinking up at a dark figure hovering above him.

“Sorry, buddy, but you can’t sleep here,” a security guard said in a gruff voice. “It’s against the rules. If you’ve had that much to drink, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.”

“I’m not drunk,” Chanyeol said — he was still slurring a little, which didn’t really help his case. “I don’t even drink. I’m just very tired, that’s all.”

Chanyeol could tell by the look the security guard gave him that he wasn’t convinced.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, getting up from his seat, stumbling around a little to make things worse. “I’ll go, if it makes you happy.” He made his way back inside the club, weaving in and out between people and searching every face as he passed, but none of them were the one he was looking for.

Why was he so desperate to find the guy, anyway? Wasn’t he the one who was sick of love — who had insisted he was better off alone?

How easily he’d caved in for another pretty face.

Chanyeol found Amber a little later, standing in line at the bar with Kibum. “Hey — did you guys happen to see me dancing with a really hot guy earlier? He had bright red hair, about this tall, wearing a white shirt…?”

Amber frowned at Chanyeol, and then she turned to Kibum. “Did _you_ see Yeol dancing with a really hot guy..?”

Kibum shook a headful of pastel rainbow hair. “Nope, sorry.” He grinned at Chanyeol, wiggling his eyebrows. “Nice one, though. Wherever he is, I hope you find him.”

“Dammit,” Chanyeol muttered under his breath. “Never mind, I think I’ll call it a night. I’ve already fallen asleep once, outside… a security guard caught me and was about to kick me out. Should probably quit while I’m ahead.”

Amber looked worried, glancing quickly at Kibum and then back at Chanyeol. “Do you want us to take you—”

“No, it’s fine,” Chanyeol said quickly, before his friends could insist on accompanying him home. He didn’t need them doing that, and anyway, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts for a while. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t wanna wreck your fun. No idea where Jongdae or Joohyun are, but tell them I said bye, will you?”

Amber pursed her lips, clearly not happy with this arrangement, but she nodded anyway. “Alright. Get home safe.” Chanyeol was already walking away when she yelled out, “catch a cab, please! And when you get home, send me a text so I know you’re alive.”

“Alright, alright,” Chanyeol yelled back, placating her with a smile and a wave. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

The cab ride home only took several minutes, but of course Chanyeol fell asleep anyway; he only woke up when the driver slapped him really hard on the shoulder, yelling “hey buddy, you’re home!” in his ear. Chanyeol quickly paid him, so exhausted he almost fell out of the car. As soon as he got up to his apartment, he texted Amber, took the first dose of his nighttime medication and fell right into bed with his clothes on, where he dreamed about dancing with the beautiful red-haired boy, the one whose name he couldn’t remember.

 

 

 

 

_iii._

Chanyeol woke up the next morning with a headache. He hadn’t even drunk anything, but he still felt sick and had a bad taste in his mouth, a side-effect of his night-time medication. When he had the strength to get up, he peeled off last night’s clothes to take a shower, and noticed a lump in the breast pocket of his shirt — a paper napkin with a ten-digit number scrawled on it in black eyeliner, and underneath the number, _Baekhyun_ and a smudged little smiley face.

Chanyeol left the napkin on top of the dresser in his bedroom, where he walked past it a number of times before it became too much for him, and then he hid it away in the top drawer, buried beneath a pile of underwear. It couldn’t taunt him if he couldn’t see it. He didn’t call the number — he didn’t know what he would say if he did — but he wrestled with the idea of showing up to a ballroom class for the rest of the week. Calling the number would only give off the impression that he was eager, but attending a class… all that meant was that he was interested in learning to dance — and he _was_ genuinely curious about it, which made the idea seem slightly less pathetic.

Should he, shouldn’t he, should he, shouldn’t he… in the end he couldn’t contain his curiosity (it was often his undoing) and so after his last session was finished on the following Tuesday evening, he made his way to Luna’s School of Dance. He questioned himself a thousand times while he walked down a long, dimly-lit corridor, peering inside each door to see if Baekhyun was in there. He felt desperately exhausted, a side-effect of his nerves, and he stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall to collect himself. He wasn’t ready to feel this way; he’d been perfectly content with the small, quiet existence he was leading, at least until a week ago, and why a handsome stranger had to come along and screw it all up was beyond him. But he’d already come this far; to turn around and go home without even trying would only mean defeat, a wasted opportunity. Sighing, Chanyeol dragged his leaden body away from the wall and kept walking.

When he found the right room, he saw groups of people standing around and chatting; others were practising together, spinning their partners around and laughing to themselves whenever they stumbled over. Baekhyun stood to one side of the room with his back to the door, talking to a woman with a bob cut dyed midnight blue. He didn't turn around as Chanyeol entered, and Chanyeol was too shy to go and interrupt their conversation. Feeling conspicuous, he sat down on one of the chairs lined up against the furthest wall from the door, and a girl with long brown hair sat down a few seats away from him. She bent forward to unbuckle her low-heeled dancing shoes, replacing them with plain black flats, and when she was finished she straightened herself and looked at Chanyeol curiously, as though only just noticing him there.

“Hey,” she said, smiling at him. “Are you new here? You _look_ new.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Unsure of what else to say, Chanyeol smiled back at her shyly.

“Cool.” The girl tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “It’s rare to see guys wanting to get into ballroom of their own free will, without being dragged along by a partner.” She smiled again. “You’re brave… I like that. Good for you.”

“Baekhyun invited me here, actually.” Chanyeol didn’t know why he was telling her this, but it just came tumbling out. “He said I should come to a class sometime, so… here I am.”

The girl’s dark eyes narrowed slightly; they flickered over at Baekhyun, and then back to Chanyeol again. “Right… I see how it is,” she said, her brows giving the slightest suggestion of a wiggle.

Chanyeol didn’t know how to respond to this. “Well, I mean we only just met, really, but—”

“But you know,” the girl continued, without waiting for Chanyeol to finish, “Baek’s a phenomenal dancer. Get him to show you one of his old competition tapes sometime — he’s retired from competing, and he can be a little shy about his accomplishments, so you might have to twist his arm a little. But seriously, it'll blow you away. The guy practically sizzles on the floor, it’s really something to behold.”

 _I know_ , Chanyeol wanted to say, _I've seen him_. But he kept this to himself.

The girl paused for a moment, looking over at Baekhyun with a thoughtful expression; now he was standing alone in front of the mirrored wall, staring at his own reflection while he stretched. “It’s just a shame,” she said, in a quiet voice — Chanyeol wasn’t sure if she was even still speaking to him, or just talking generally. “He’s still so young, you know. But he has his good days… I guess that’s the main thing keeping him on the floor. The word ‘quit’ doesn’t exist in his vocabulary.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chanyeol said softly, trying to sound like he understood, even though he had no idea what she was talking about. Baekhyun walked over towards them then, having finally noticed Chanyeol’s presence. “Hey… you came!” He seemed genuinely happy about it, too. There it was, that crinkly-nosed, twinkly-eyed smile. Chanyeol was glad he was sitting down, since it made him feel wobbly all over again.

“Well, you got me all curious, so I thought I’d swing by and see what it was all about.” He tried not to cringe at what he’d just said, at how un-casual it sounded, hiding his nerves behind a smile of his own.

Baekhyun nodded towards the brown-haired girl. “I see you’ve been talking to Seulgi… Seulgi teaches swing, which is the class before mine. One of the best swing dancers you'll ever have the privilege to meet.” To Seulgi he said, “this is Chanyeol, another one I managed to reel in. Told you I bring all the boys to the yard, didn’t I..?”

Seulgi laughed. “I need some of that charm to rub off on me,” she said, with a playful swat at Baekhyun’s arm. “Well, I’m off. Enjoy your class, guys.” She stood up, giving Chanyeol a friendly — and knowing — parting glance, before leaving the two of them by themselves.

“I’m really happy you showed up. I was hoping I’d see you again,” Baekhyun said, turning to Chanyeol. He had no make-up on this time, and he looked fresh-faced and healthy. His gaze travelled down to Chanyeol’s shoes. “I see the non-wallflower shoes have made another appearance this evening… nice to see them again, too.”

Chanyeol looked down at his feet; he’d put the boogie shoes on partly because they were the closest thing to dancing shoes he owned, and also because they made him feel more confident — lucky, even, knowing they were part of the reason Baekhyun came and talked to him in the first place. “Yeah, I guess they have,” he said, smiling. “I should probably invest in some proper dancing shoes..”

“Oh, there’s no need for that yet… they’re hideously expensive, anyway.” Baekhyun’s nose scrunched up a little, like he was either thinking really hard or had just smelled something rank. “Forgive me if I got it wrong, but your name _is_ Chanyeol, right..?”

“Right.” Chanyeol smiled. “And you're Baekhyun.”

“Bingo,” Baekhyun said, laughing, “although you were the sober one that night, so you have no excuse not to remember.” He clapped his hands together suddenly, making Chanyeol jump a little. “So. Will we have the pleasure of your company on the floor tonight, or would you prefer to sit back and watch? I recommend the former, of course, but it’s completely up to you.”

Chanyeol hesitated. “Uh… I guess I’ll give it a shot, and see how I go..?” It was odd that the whole thing about him falling asleep at the bar had yet to come up. It was possible that Baekhyun hadn’t mentioned it to save him the embarrassment; either way, he was grateful not to have to explain himself.

Baekhyun grinned at Chanyeol, and then he grabbed him by the hand, pulling him up from his seat. “Just what I wanted to hear.” He walked towards the front of the room, clapping his hands for attention, Chanyeol following behind him like a lost puppy. He found a spot closer to the back, keeping a bit of distance between himself and the other dancers. He felt a bit silly that he was still in his work clothes, but apart from a few friendly smiles in his direction, no one spared him anything more than a quick glance.

“Alright everybody, let’s warm up.” Baekhyun started clapping even louder, until people stopped chatting and spread out around the room. “Everyone spread out, please… a little more… that’s the way. Give yourselves plenty of space to move around. You can get all up in each other’s shit very soon, I promise.”

The warm-up was just a series of simple movements — stretches, waving their limbs around, jumping up and down, following each other around in a circle and flapping their arms like awkward-looking oversized birds. Then Baekhyun made them all get down on the floor and do push-ups. After they were finished warming up, he changed the music to something slow and waltzy, and then he said, “okay, everyone, partner up. Since we have a newbie or two here tonight, we’ll start off with a simple waltz.” People quickly moved over to their respective partners, and Chanyeol was left standing in the middle of the floor by himself, unsure of what to do. Baekhyun stood there and looked at him thoughtfully, the sexy lip-bite making another appearance.

“Odd numbers again,” he said, and shrugged. “Well, it can't be helped… if you don't mind dancing with me, you can help me demo tonight. How's that sound?” Chanyeol must have looked terrified at the idea, because Baekhyun laughed. “Come on, I don’t smell _that_ bad, do I..?”

“No, not at all,” Chanyeol said, his mouth going dry. “I just… I have no idea what I'm doing.”

“Well, that's alright. It _is_ a beginners class, so a lot of these guys don’t know what the hell they’re doing either. This is a judgement-free zone.” Baekhyun held his hands out in front of him, making cute little grabbing motions in Chanyeol’s direction, trying to lure him over. “Come on, you’ll be fine. As long as you're okay with leading right off the bat. I’ll walk you through it, I promise.”

“Is this weird?” Chanyeol asked while Baekhyun lifted his arms up, showing him how to hold the correct frame. “Two guys dancing together, I mean.”

Baekhyun just smiled. “Not at all… I get same-sex pairs fairly often. You never know what kind of mix you’re going to get on any given day, so sometimes it’s necessary. You don’t see it in competition, though, which is a shame.” They began to move, very slowly. “It helps if you count the steps in your head — one, two, three, one, two, three. That’s it. Very good.” He had one hand in Chanyeol’s, and the other rested on his shoulder. Chanyeol noticed that he wore a thin gold band on his ring finger — a wedding ring, perhaps? It certainly looked like one. Chanyeol couldn’t remember ever seeing it when he’d danced with Baekhyun at the club. He frowned at the tiny gold circle, narrowing his eyes in its direction, as though doing so might make it disappear. He looked away again, his gaze wandering around the room while he tried to ignore the feeling of his stomach dropping. All the other couples were mixed, he noticed, apart from one pairing of two women, one about half a foot taller than the other.

“They’ve been together for years,” Baekhyun whispered in his ear; he must have noticed Chanyeol looking at them. “Such a sweet couple… really lovely girls.”

“Keep this in mind, leading fellas — and lady,” he then said to the class. “As the leaders, it is your job to make your partner look good.” His eyes never left Chanyeol's as they danced, and Chanyeol didn’t know where to look; he wasn’t used to making eye contact for that long. “I’m the pretty painting, and Chanyeol here is my frame. Although he’s much prettier than I am, if you ask me.”

There were a few snickers among the class, and Chanyeol felt his face warming up, but he was too tongue-tied to say anything in response. Why the hell was a married man flirting with him, anyway? Or maybe it wasn’t flirting at all, but his own wishful thinking. Maybe Baekhyun was just a nice person who liked paying other people compliments, and _he_ was the one barking up the wrong tree this whole time. He turned his head to catch glimpses of the other couples dancing, swirling around the room gracefully as though their feet moved on air, instead of that dull hardwood floor scuffed by a million shoes.

“That’s the way,” Baekhyun murmured, looking down at Chanyeol’s feet. “Look at you. You’re doing so well, and it’s only your first try.”

As soon as he said this, Chanyeol accidentally stepped on his foot — and quite hard, too. “Oh! I’m so sorry.”

Baekhyun laughed it off. “It’s fine,” he said, giving Chanyeol’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Happens all the time. You get used to it, believe me… I’ve got feet of steel now.”

After the waltz, they moved on to something a little more upbeat called the Merengue — “the saying goes that if you can walk, you can Merengue,” Baekhyun explained to the class. It wasn’t difficult at all, and Chanyeol eventually relaxed enough to have some fun. By some miracle, he didn’t even feel tired. And there were times when Baekhyun looked up at him like he was the only other person in the world, but then Chanyeol would catch the glint of that golden ring from the corner of his eye, and every fantasy he built up would tumble down to the ground again.

“Okay, that's all for tonight,” Baekhyun said, when the hour-long lesson was over. He gave everyone an enthusiastic round of applause. “Nice work, guys. Everybody bow to your partner, and I’ll see you all next lesson.”

“So, what did you think?” he said to Chanyeol afterwards, and Chanyeol shrugged, trying to appear casual.

“It was pretty good,” he said. “I had fun.”

Baekhyun nodded; he seemed a little distracted, not looking at Chanyeol while he packed up his belongings. “Well, go home and think about it, then… if it’s something you’d like to continue with, come and see us again, and we’ll sign you up.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol picked up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “Sounds good.”

Baekhyun looked up at him then; he looked like he really wanted to say something else, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. “Well, I’ll see you again soon, hopefully,” he said at last, when Chanyeol was halfway through the door, and Chanyeol turned back towards him, offering him a warm smile in response. He looked at Baekhyun for as long as he could, trying to commit that beautiful face to memory, in case they never had a reason to cross paths again.

“Sure,” he said quietly. “I’ll definitely think about it.”

It was cold outside, the last remnants of winter hanging on for dear life; Chanyeol put on his helmet and walked quickly to the bus stop with his arms around himself, trying to swallow down the bitter little lump of disappointment stuck in his throat. It was a shame, really… he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been this interested in someone so quickly after meeting them. He liked Baekhyun — he liked him a lot, and that was just from what he’d seen over two separate occasions. But it seemed that Baekhyun was probably married, and there was no way Chanyeol was getting tangled up in anything like that. He wasn’t that kind of guy. In spite of everything, the class _had_ been fun, and he didn’t regret giving it a try, but now it was time to get his head out of the clouds and go back to reality. Perhaps, one day, he’d go back and give ballroom dancing another shot. If he did, it would be for the right reasons.

Jongin texted him later that night — just as soon as Chanyeol collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted and about ready to conk out — and asked if he wanted to catch up over Skype. He had a habit of texting Chanyeol at random times because of the time difference; usually either when he was about to go to sleep, or at some terrible hour of the morning. Chanyeol tried to be enthusiastic, but really he just wanted to go to bed; his muscles, not used to the work-out, were already screaming at him, begging for rest. He forced a smile anyway, for Jongin's sake. That was the problem with a video call: you had to actually _look_ pleased to see the caller, and not just sound it.

“How's it all going across the pond?” he asked, opening his eyes wider in an effort to look more awake.

“Good, really good. Just soaking up the last of the warm weather, if you can even call it that,” Jongin said, laughing. “I miss the sun, and the beach. I’m so jealous of you right now, having six months of proper summer ahead of you.”

Chanyeol let out a little grunt in place of a laugh. “Mmm, I’ll bet. How’s the training going..?”

“Yeah, it’s alright. I’m just doing what I can to get noticed, at this stage… trying to work my way up without treading on too many toes at the same time. Training all day, six days a week. It’s gruelling, but I’m loving it.” Jongin looked tired, but good. He smiled a lot. He had slight bags under his eyes, but otherwise there was no evidence that the past several months had been unkind to him in any way. This was what Chanyeol noticed the most about people now: if they looked healthy, and whether or not they looked tired. Other details of a person's appearance were usually lost on him, not retained beyond the first glance. Baekhyun, of course, had been an exception — Chanyeol had an accurate, vivid mental image stowed away from both of the times they’d met, and he knew they wouldn’t be fading away anytime soon.

Over the rest of the call, Jongin talked about life in the Company, and about living in London: the busy-ness of it, the noise and the hustle-bustle and the crazy number of people on the tube, and the worrying eating habits of his flatmate, who was also a dancer. He’d recently been to Brick Lane and Portobello and thought Chanyeol would love them both, since he was into trawling through markets and all that kind of stuff. He’d found a real old Scots Guard jacket at one of the stalls, and he was going to send it to Chanyeol as a present; apparently it still smelled like 100-year-old B.O. and everything. It all sounded very exciting. In return, Chanyeol talked about nothing much, and felt like a bit of a let-down. Nothing interesting had happened, really, apart from meeting Baekhyun, and attending one ballroom class — and the fact that a boy called Sehun had kicked him in the shin and told him where to stick his maracas during a group therapy session at the children’s ward that day, but Chanyeol didn't feel like mentioning any of that. Jongin’s voice was soothing and familiar, and it soon made him feel sleepy. So very sleepy…

He woke up later with his head tilted back against the sofa, drooling down one side of his chin, and saw that the Skype call had ended and his laptop was about to die. He found a text on his phone from Jongin: _‘you passed out, so I left you to it. Sorry for keeping you up. Was really nice to see you x’._

Chanyeol sighed and let his head fall back again, almost instantly falling back to sleep.

 

 

 

 

_iv._

Chanyeol was on his way to pick up some breakfast before work when he happened upon an old upright piano that someone had left out in the street, stool and all. He stopped and stood there for a moment, looking at it; the lacquered wood was scratched and dull in certain areas, and he traced some of the scratches with his fingertips, then lifted up the cover to see if all the keys were still there. Some of them were discoloured from their original creamy ivory to yellow or pale brown, but when he ran his fingers along them, none of them were stuck. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, he sat down and began to play. The poor old girl was out of tune, and probably hadn’t been played for quite some time, but that was okay. Some of the people walking past stopped for a moment to listen, smiled at him and then continued on their way.

Chanyeol’s eyes fluttered closed as his fingers danced across the keys. What bliss… and yet with that bliss came the weight behind his eyes; that exhausting, crushing weight of emotion on his fragile consciousness. He already knew he was probably going to fall asleep, that was a given. But how long could he cheat it for? That was always the question in the back of his mind: how much time he had left before the lights went out.

He knew he could play an entire piece quite easily if it was a shorter one, especially if he felt indifferent about it. But something like Chopin’s Prelude in E Minor, a stormy little piece that he loved dearly, was more of a challenge. From the corner of his eye, Chanyeol noticed a small group of people standing around him now, listening to him play; it made him a little nervous, but he smiled shyly to himself, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and kept going. “Go Mr. Park!” a child’s voice called out — one of his students, probably, although he couldn't tell from the voice alone who it was. The applause made him glow inside with happiness. Being this happy only made him sleepier, but he was almost there. There wasn’t that much left of the song, and he was going to make it to the end.

He looked up for a second, just in time to see Baekhyun appear; he stood right behind the piano, his red hair blazing in the morning sun. His sudden appearance nearly threw Chanyeol off, but he recovered just in time. Baekhyun smiled at him, waiting until Chanyeol was finished playing before he spoke. “That was great… I didn’t even know you played. You’re incredibly gifted.”

Chanyeol smiled back. “Thanks.”

Baekhyun held out his hand. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Chanyeol hesitated. “Uh… right now..?” Baekhyun grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up, twirling him around on the pavement. Taken completely by surprise, Chanyeol almost fell over; the people gathered around whistled in delight, clapping and cheering at the spectacle. Someone else sat down at the piano and began to play the Minute Waltz, which was perfect for them to dance to, and Baekhyun led Chanyeol out into the street, spinning him around and around, over and over, until he began to feel dizzy.

He'd never felt so dizzy before… dizzy with happiness and excitement and infatuation.

“Hey.” There was a voice in his ear; an urgent whisper. “Hey, Chanyeol. Are you alright..?”

Chanyeol opened his eyes and tried to lift his head, but he couldn't. Sunlight burned his vision and he looked up, blinking at the face above him until it grew clearer. He was lying on his back on a public bench, and Baekhyun was standing over him, looking concerned. He was leaning on something — a cane, Chanyeol realised, made of dark polished wood, topped with a duck head made of bronze.

“I’m okay,” Chanyeol said, when he was able to form the words again. “What happened..?” He had a feeling he already knew what had happened, but playing dumb seemed like a better idea.

“I was standing over there with a bunch of other people, watching you play that abandoned piano,” Baekhyun said. “You were _really_ good by the way… I didn’t even know you were a musician, you sly thing. But all of a sudden you fainted, so I got someone to help me carry you over to this bench. I was about to go get help, but… then you started waking up.”

So the dancing in the street was just a dream, then. Sighing, Chanyeol slowly sat up. “Thanks, but I’m fine… I just felt a bit lightheaded, that’s all.”

Baekhyun looked at him, chewing his lip. “Are you on your way to somewhere right now?”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened when he remembered the day’s plans. He looked at his watch, relieved to see it was only a little before nine o’clock — his first session for the day didn’t start until ten. “Well, yeah. But I don’t have to be there for another hour.”

“Great.” Leaning his cane against the side of the bench, Baekhyun held out his hand to help Chanyeol to his feet. “Let me shout you breakfast, then. Maybe you just need to get some sugar in you.”

“Oh, no thanks, I—”

“Please, I insist,” Baekhyun said, without letting Chanyeol finish. “Are you a pancake fan? Pancake Heaven isn’t far from here.”

Chanyeol sighed and nodded his head. “Yeah, I am,” he said, smiling at Baekhyun. “Sounds great.”

“Then it’s settled. Actually, I was kind of hoping I’d bump into you again.” Baekhyun was still just as chatty as Chanyeol remembered him being; he wasn’t really in a talkative mood himself, but it was cute. “You never came back after your first lesson, and I’ll admit I was a bit disappointed... I thought you had a lot of potential. It seemed to me like you enjoyed yourself that night, but I’m sorry if I was wrong.”

“No, not at all,” Chanyeol said, “I really did have fun. I’ve just been very busy lately, and haven’t really had the time to attend classes. But this thing about me having potential is news to me… I was convinced I was crap at it.”

Baekhyun just laughed. “What are you talking about? You did great. I would even go as far as saying you’re a natural — which is funny because, in my experience, the tall gangly ones usually have a lot of trouble controlling their limbs, at first.”

“Ah, well, I’m flattered.” Chanyeol eyed the cane and Baekhyun’s unsteady, slightly lopsided gait as they walked together. “Forgive me for prying, but did you injure yourself..?”

“Huh? Oh, this old thing — no, I’m not injured.” Baekhyun was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “I have multiple sclerosis, actually, and sometimes I need a cane to help me walk. It only happens when I’m in the middle of a relapse; at other times, I’m perfectly fine, and you probably wouldn’t even know about it if I didn’t tell you.”

Chanyeol’s brow furrowed. “Oh… right. I see. I thought you’d gone and sprained something…” and then his voice trailed off into nothing. Better to stop now, he thought, and avoid saying anything stupid or offensive.

Baekhyun fell silent again, and Chanyeol swallowed nervously — he hoped he hadn’t offended him after all. But then he just laughed, the joyful sound slicing right through the tense silence. “I’m okay, really… although today is not one of my better days, hence needing a bit of help from Abel. That’s the name of my cane, by the way. It’s a play on Cain and Abel — and also, when I’m with Abel, I’m a little more Able. I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes at me right now, but it still makes me chuckle.”

A cane called Abel, indeed. “Very punny,” Chanyeol said, laughing a little to be polite, and up flew one hand to cover his mouth, trapping the laughter inside. He’d let some of it slip out, and it made his knees wobble a bit, but not enough to put him in the danger zone. He would have to be careful around Baekhyun, he thought; he lured various feelings right out of Chanyeol without any warning, and that was dangerous when he already had little control over his own body. When they arrived at Pancake Heaven, he held open the door for Baekhyun, waiting for him to enter first. “After you,” he said with a smile, and they sat down at a little table inside, browsing through their menus, Baekhyun’s cane propped up between his knees. Chanyeol noticed Baekhyun staring at him for a moment, then looking away and smiling to himself when he was caught. He began to laugh again.

He sure did laugh a lot, this guy. “Is something funny?” Chanyeol asked.

“I asked you what you felt like eating just now, and you didn't respond,” Baekhyun said, beaming at him. “You're in your head a lot, aren't you? Don’t worry, I’m like that sometimes too.”

Chanyeol frowned; he didn’t even realise Baekhyun had spoken. “Huh? Oh… sorry about that.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Actually, it’s kinda cute.”

 _I’m not in my head,_ Chanyeol thought. _I just want to sleep._

Baekhyun went back to his menu, still smiling to himself. “Speaking of apologies, it’s really nice to tell someone about the whole MS thing, and not get an immediate reply of ‘I’m so sorry’..”

Chanyeol frowned, looking up at him again. “Why would anyone say that?”

“Well, people seem to think that having MS means you’re dying, or that you’re in a wheelchair 24/7… neither is true, in my case. I only use a wheelchair occasionally, and I’m certainly not dying.” Baekhyun laughed a little and added, “at least, not that I know of.” He looked thoughtful then, or something toeing the line between contemplation and melancholy, and Chanyeol felt like he should maybe change the direction their conversation was heading in. But first, he held up a hand to signal at a passing waitress, who jotted down both of their orders, smiling as she took their menus away.

 _Nothing to hide behind now,_ Chanyeol thought; he could feel Baekhyun looking at him again, and it made his face feel warm. “So… do you like living here?” he asked politely, moving the conversation along.

“I really do,” Baekhyun said, his expression brightening a little. “Actually, I grew up in Avoca, back in the day… but I started ballroom dancing seriously as a youngster, and then I moved away with my folks when my competitive career took off. I moved back here recently because, well, I don't know why. Call it a sea-change, if you will. All I know is that my circumstances changed drastically within a few years, and I guess I just wanted to see if the place where I grew up had done the same.”

“I get what you mean with the whole sea-change thing… that’s kinda why I ended up here too,” Chanyeol said. “My family’s all still in the city, but that kind of life isn’t for me. I wanted the sea, something a bit slower-moving.” He paused, leaning back a little while the waitress placed their coffees on the table in front of them, and then he thanked her with a polite little bow of his head. “You came back after they started shutting the plant down, then.”

Baekhyun nodded. “I thought it was a completely new place when I moved back; less industrial. I know only one stack is gone, but it changes the look of the town so much already, doesn’t it? And it seems so much livelier around here now. I think it’s great.” He paused for a moment to take a sip of his coffee. “You wouldn’t know it now, but Avoca could be such a ghost-town when I was young, especially at certain times of the year. We used to walk down The Avenue when school was out during the summer, my best friends and I — when everyone else who could afford it had gone off to nicer places for their holidays — and we felt like the only people left in the world.” He was quiet for a moment, smiling at the memory. “So we’d play zombie-apocalypse-themed chasing games, and terrorise old Mrs. Jamison in the little corner shop next to the hardware store, whining at her like hungry dogs for a small chocolate bar or some candy. Not a cent between us, of course; bless her, that kind soul, she always came through with the goods. And now her little store’s become just another 7-11.”

Chanyeol smiled at the little anecdote, and the way Baekhyun’s whole face changed as he told it. “I see,” he said. “I guess it has changed a lot around here, even in the past year or two alone.”

“What about you?” Baekhyun said suddenly, scattering Chanyeol’s thoughts. He leaned forward on the table with his chin resting in his hands, his expression one of genuine interest. “Tell me more about you.”

“Me? There's not a whole lot worth knowing.” Chanyeol smiled at the waitress as she arrived with their pancakes, placing them down upon the table.

“I’m sure that's not true.” Baekhyun was smiling at him, a coy little smile like he had a secret he didn’t want to share. He poured maple syrup over his blueberry pancakes, cut a large wedge out of the stack, and kept talking with his mouth full. “What do you like to do, mister wallflower? What gets you out of bed in the morning..?”

The main thing getting Chanyeol out of bed in the morning was the thought of being able to get back into it again. But this would only sound depressing to someone without a sleep disorder, so he said, “well, music does, I guess.”

Baekhyun nodded. “So what do you do for a living? Are you a music teacher, perhaps..?”

Chanyeol cut a piece of pancake, dipped it into a puddle of syrup and put it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m a music therapist, actually. But I teach piano and guitar as well, privately, outside of my usual work hours. And I sort of play the drums, but I’m not so good at that. It’s really more of a hobby.”

“A music therapist.” Baekhyun looked up from his food, one eyebrow raised. “That's a thing..?”

Chanyeol smiled. “I get that a lot. But yeah, it's definitely a thing.”

“I see,” Baekhyun said. “That’s very interesting. I hope you don’t think I’m belittling you, I’ve just never actually met a music therapist until now. What exactly do you do?”

“Well, it's pretty much what it sounds like… using music as a therapeutic tool.” Chanyeol paused for a moment while he took a sip of his coffee, thinking about how he could best explain his job in a few sentences. “If someone is grieving, music might help them to move on from that. Or it can be used to facilitate communication with someone who has difficulty in that area — a patient with autism, for example. Or, say, to awaken memories in patients with Alzheimer’s. Music therapy can help with all sorts of things: anxiety, stress, even depression. I see a few of my clients privately from my office, but I also run group sessions down at the hospital and the aged care centre, and it’s a really good, constructive activity for patients; it gives them something fun to look forward to, gives them new skills, helps them learn to cope with their individual circumstances. Music is a great way for people to express themselves, to get their thoughts and feelings out there so that they can process them more effectively… it can even have an analgesic effect, in some cases.”

“An anal _what_..?” Baekhyun asked, with a quick burst of laughter, and Chanyeol had to keep himself from laughing too, which was a next-level challenge.

“It’s just another word for something that helps to relieve pain,” he explained patiently, smiling.

Baekhyun made an O shape with his mouth. “Oh. I’ve never met anyone with such a cool job before.”

“Well, at least you acknowledge that it is a job,” Chanyeol said, rolling his eyes. “Took a few years to convince my parents of the same thing..”

Baekhyun shrugged. “If it brings home the bacon, it's a job. I make my money by showing people how to move around a room in a fancy-looking way. Is it helping anyone, or changing the world? Not really… but it pays the bills, and it’s enjoyable.”

“Don't put yourself down. It seems like a great job,” Chanyeol said. “Anyway, I'm sure it makes people happy. Anything that brings happiness to others is a valuable vocation, in my book.”

“It's alright, I suppose… it’s great when I actually get to dance with the rest of the class. When I'm chair-bound for an entire lesson, it's not quite as fun.” Baekhyun poked at his food for a moment, making no move to eat. “So what else do you like to do, besides being a music therapist?” he asked, and Chanyeol had to think about this for a while; his silence probably said a lot more about him, he thought, than any words could.

“I compose, sometimes,” he said, “but nothing too ground-breaking.” He regretted mentioning it when he saw the look on Baekhyun’s face.

“You do?" Baekhyun's eyes lit up. “Wow. I’d love to hear one of your compositions sometime.”

Chanyeol rubbed the back of his neck, smiling awkwardly at his half-demolished pancakes. “Maybe. I can’t promise that they’re any good.”

“You’ve never wanted to play your own stuff..?” Baekhyun tilted his head to the side, studying Chanyeol intently. “I don’t know a whole lot about music, apart from how to dance to it, but I thought you sounded great out there. I’m sure your original music is very good too.”

“Well…” Chanyeol didn't mention that it had been a while since he last finished composing something — since before Jongin moved away, in fact, his music sheets still lying in a pile on his desk, getting crumpled and yellowed and dusty with time. He still mucked about with the piano and guitar when he felt like it, but nothing much came of it. “I like writing my own stuff, but I’m not very good at it. I used to play in a few bands when I was at university, too… drums, guitar, keys, all very short-lived. We just did it for fun. There were no aspirations to make it big or anything.” He paused for a moment to take another bite. “I _was_ working on something recently, in fact… a collection of therapeutic piano pieces. I was hoping to record them at some point, but nothing’s finished yet.”

“Ah. Well you can't rush genius, I always say.” Baekhyun leaned back in his chair, letting out a little sigh of contentment, his hands clasped together over his stomach. “You know, I quite liked playing the piano when I was younger, but then I gave it up to focus on my dancing. I’d be lucky to be able to play a single chord now.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I could always teach you, if you want. I’m sure you’d be able to pick it up again.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Baekhyun said, smiling at him. “I’d probably be a terrible student. I liked playing, but I never liked practicing.”

“You already have pretty pianist’s hands,” Chanyeol said, returning the smile. “Some would say that's half the battle.”

“They don’t really work as well as they used to, sadly, but thank you for the compliment.” Baekhyun leaned forward over the table again, his eyes shining with mischief. “Maybe I can do you a deal — you teach me how to play like Beethoven, and I’ll teach you how to dance like Fred Astaire.”

Chanyeol grinned. “That’s a tall order,” he said. He was quiet for a while, and then he added, “you know, I’ve seen you around before… before we met, I mean. When I went down to the beach to go for walks, I used to see you dancing there, on the sand.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun’s eyes widened; he looked around the room, as though not knowing what to make of this revelation, and Chanyeol began to regret mentioning it at all.

“Sorry… not to sound creepy, or anything,” he said, laughing nervously. “It’s just that I go there a lot… and whenever I saw you, I always thought that you danced so beautifully. I really wanted to tell you that, but I was too shy. And I remember thinking that I wanted to love something as much as you seemed to love dancing.”

“You don’t love music in that way..?” Baekhyun asked, frowning.

“I do,” Chanyeol said; he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “But I’m finding it more challenging than I used to, which is killing my love for it a bit. Maybe I’m just uninspired at the moment, I don’t know.”

Baekhyun smiled. “Well, it’s not creepy at all… it’s very sweet of you to say that, actually. And yes, I do go down to the beach to shadow-dance sometimes.” When Chanyeol frowned at the term, he explained, “it’s when you dance alone for practice, instead of with a partner. My competition days are long behind me now, but I still like to keep on top of my practicing, wherever possible. I don’t want to forget how to move altogether.”

Chanyeol’s throat felt tight for some reason. “Does it hurt you?” he asked quietly. “The MS, I mean.”

Baekhyun exhaled deeply through his nose. “Sure, I guess… I get muscle spasms sometimes, and those can hurt a lot. It’s more that I get really weak, and then I find it hard to get around. There are a lot of weird, annoying symptoms — like my hands and feet go all numb, so I have trouble walking properly and holding on to things, and doing up buttons and all that jazz. Lots of smashed crockery ‘round my place… now I just buy plastic to save me the hassle.” He let out another nervous little laugh before he continued. “I also get pins and needles everywhere, and I feel like I have to pee all the time. I have the type of MS where you relapse and then go back to normal, so I can go for a month or two of feeling pretty good, just like I did before I got sick — then all of a sudden, I’m a 28-year-old waking up in a 90-year-old’s body. And then I’ll gradually get better again. It’s a vicious cycle, and each time I relapse, it’s a bit different to the time before it.”

“I see. That sounds very difficult,” Chanyeol said quietly.

Baekhyun nodded. “It can be. I’m still able to mostly get by on my own, with the aid of medication and a few lifestyle changes, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to do that.” He gave a little shrug and said, “for now, I’m just enjoying my independence while I’ve still got it.”

“Seeing you dance that night at the club, I’d never have known,” Chanyeol said, smiling at him. “You’re a regular dancing machine.”

Baekhyun laughed. “I could say the same about you,” he said, winking at Chanyeol. “I suppose days where I feel _that_ good don’t come as often anymore, so I try to make the most of them when they do.”

“Well, I think that’s great. I really admire your attitude.” Chanyeol looked at his watch, his eyes widening at the time. “Oops.. I’d better get going. I have a room full of ill children armed with xylophones and ukuleles waiting for me at the hospital.” He would need to get a cab there now, or else he’d be late. He was about to pull out his wallet, but then Baekhyun stopped him, saying, “please, it’s on me.” Chanyeol nodded in silence and put the wallet away.

Baekhyun looked hopeful, then. “So… I guess I might see you at another class sometime…?”

For a moment Chanyeol felt hopeful as well, seeing the way Baekhyun looked at him — like he genuinely wanted to see him again. But then he remembered the gold band on Baekhyun’s finger, and the fact that teaching people to dance was his livelihood, which depended largely on his ability to get them through the door. He figured he could play hard-to-get for a bit longer.

“It’s… not unlikely,” he said, smiling at Baekhyun over his shoulder. “We’ll see.” He stopped at the front counter for only a second so as not to draw attention to himself, secretly slipping the young man at the register a couple of twenties to cover the bill before leaving.

 

 

 

 

_v._

Chanyeol didn’t play hard-to-get for too long. He turned up at one of Baekhyun’s classes barely a week later, hurrying through the door just as it was about to start.

“Look who’s here!” Baekhyun said, beaming at him. “I was wondering if you might show up again.”

Chanyeol bent over with his hands resting on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. “Did you expect me not to…?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “I just didn't know if you were still interested, that’s all.”

“Well, I am.” Chanyeol thought about the last time they saw each other, and noted that the cane was absent. “I’m glad to see you’re looking a bit better.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Baekhyun said, with a casual wave of his hand. “I was pretty tired earlier, actually… but seeing you walk through the door must have perked me right up again.” As more and more people began to arrive, he clapped his hands and said, “alright everybody, let’s warm up!”

They warmed up first, once again dancing like birds flapping their wings, following each other in a circle, and then shadow-dancing in a diagonal line across the room. Baekhyun just stood there and watched them all with his thumb between his teeth, smiling occasionally. The wedding band was back again today. He put his fingers in his mouth a lot, Chanyeol noticed. His thumb had a large mole just beneath the nail bed, which Chanyeol found beautiful — perhaps unsurprisingly, since to him, everything about Baekhyun was beautiful. His mouth seemed like it always needed to be doing something, and it was hard for Chanyeol to concentrate on the task at hand because he kept getting distracted by Baekhyun's oral activities; at one point he stopped too quickly and the people behind all bumped into him, nearly resulting in a domino situation — a little embarrassing, but he recovered quickly.

This time Baekhyun paired Chanyeol up with Dara, another single student who’d just joined the class that day. She smiled when Baekhyun introduced them, and Chanyeol smiled back at her, trying not to look a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get to dance with Baekhyun that night. Dara seemed pleasant, a pretty older woman who was learning to dance “for exercise”, she said. When she asked Chanyeol why he was there, he smiled and said, “same”, but his eyes were always seeking out Baekhyun, and if he wasn’t so preoccupied all the time, he would have wondered if she noticed.

Baekhyun remained seated at the front of the room for much of the lesson. He still seemed a little more lethargic than usual, and Chanyeol wondered if he wasn’t feeling well. Other than that, he was as enthusiastic as ever, yelling out commands from where he sat — often just repetitions of body parts and numbers, like “heel toe toe toe toe, heel toe toe!” and “one, two, three, rise!”, punctuating every sentence with a constant loud clapping of his hands. His instructions were mostly dancey-sounding things that Chanyeol didn’t always understand, things like:

“I want to see everybody standing up nice and straight! You too, Chanyeol and Yifan… don’t think you can get away with slouching just because you’re taller than the rest of us.”

“Keep your frames! I don't want to see any sloppy arms! I want to see strong, beautiful frames all the time — and strong does not mean stiff!”

“Mark, keep your fingers closed! Also, _you’re_ the one leading, not Krystal! And don’t gawk at her like a stunned mullet, look at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world — she is anyway, aren’t you darling?”

“If you’re getting confused, repeat the step sequence to yourself: quick, quick, slow!”

“And _promenade_!”

Eventually Baekhyun got up and stood at the edge of the floor, focusing his attention on individual couples as they danced. “Don’t forget to look your partner in the eyes,” he said. “Look at him or her like it's the last time you're ever going to see each other. In ballroom dancing, expression and attitude are very important… keep that in mind at all times.” At one point he walked over to Chanyeol and Dara with his hands behind his back, watched them in silence for a moment, and then held up a hand to stop them.

“Lean on your front foot,” he said in a quiet voice, demonstrating this for them. “Put all your body weight on your front foot, then go to the back. Front to back. Can you do that for me?”

Chanyeol did his best to copy what Baekhyun was doing; Baekhyun just looked down at his feet, nodding to himself with an unreadable expression. “Good,” he murmured at last, “very good. The first step is crucial… remember that. Don’t hesitate.” He looked up then and put a hand on Chanyeol’s arm, lifting it up gently so that it was straighter. Something about Baekhyun’s touch — how gentle it was, and yet how it still held so much power over him — made Chanyeol’s heart pound like mad, and he started to feel weak. His knees buckled and he swayed a little.

“Woah,” Baekhyun said, reaching out to hold him still. His arms were strong, and it took every ounce of Chanyeol’s crumbling resolve to keep from falling into them. “Easy does it.”

“I’m sorry. I think I just need to sit down for a second.” The words came out a mumbled mess, and Chanyeol fell to his knees and sat there, bewildered, straining to keep his eyes open. It felt like every force in the universe was trying to pull him forward towards the floor. The sound of footsteps all around him gradually slowed to a halt, but he barely noticed.

Baekhyun kneeled down next to him, gently rubbing his arm — which was comforting, but didn’t help with the whole staying awake part. “Chanyeol, are you feeling okay?” He sounded worried.

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol said. He was starting to feel better; if he was lucky, maybe he wouldn’t actually pass out this time. “I thought I was going to faint for a minute, that’s all.”

“Hmm… you’d better come with me. Everyone else, keep doing what you were doing.” Baekhyun helped Chanyeol stand, and then he said to Dara, “I’m sorry, Dara… just have a quick break for a moment, if you don’t mind — go get some water. I’ll make sure Chanyeol’s okay, and then I’ll come and dance with you instead.”

Baekhyun led Chanyeol by the hand over to the row of chairs against the wall and helped him sit down. “Are you alright? Do you want something to drink?”

Chanyeol shook his head, leaning back on the chair with his eyes closed. “I’m fine. I might just sit here for a while.”

“Okay. You rest, and if you need anything at all, just give me a yell.” Baekhyun walked away —reluctantly, it seemed — looking back over his shoulder at Chanyeol more than once. Chanyeol watched him dance with Dara for a little while, and then he closed his eyes for a moment, the temptation too strong to resist. It felt like barely a minute passed before a hand appeared on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake.

“Hey sleepy-head,” a voice whispered. “Wakey wakey..”

Chanyeol opened his eyes, blinking at the red blurry thing hovering over him. “Hmm..?”

When his vision cleared, he saw it was Baekhyun standing in front of him, smiling as usual, his eyes like happy little crescent moons. “You fell asleep,” he said; he had the kind of amused expression people get when they see something adorable. “Naww. You must have been very tired.”

“How long was I asleep for..?” Chanyeol asked, rubbing his eyes.

“A while? I don’t know exactly… but everyone left about ten minutes ago. I almost didn’t have the heart to wake you, but I don’t think you’d have thanked me for leaving you here overnight.” Baekhyun looked around, shielded one side of his mouth with his hand and whispered, “I once saw a rat as big as a puppy in the studio kitchen.”

“Oh, okay. Gross.” Chanyeol scrunched his nose up at the thought. He was embarrassed that he’d fallen asleep, but Baekhyun seemed to think he was just a bit worn out, and he could live with that. He stood up, slowly, so his head wouldn’t spin. “Sorry for falling asleep on you..”

Baekhyun shook his head. “Don’t be… it’s perfectly fine. I’m pretty tired myself right now, so I get it. Are you feeling alright?”

Chanyeol nodded. “I feel a lot better,” he said, and it was true. “I think maybe I was just sleep-deprived, or something.” Also true.

Baekhyun looked at him with a soft but neutral expression. “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he said, smiling. “Take care of yourself, okay? You only have one body… gotta look after it the best you can.”

“Can I walk you home?” Chanyeol asked, before he could stop himself. “Or… to wherever you need to go… to your car or whatever…” He trailed off into awkward silence, and Baekhyun looked surprised at first, but then he just laughed.

“That'd be a very short walk,” he said. He bit his lip when he smiled again. “I only live down the road.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol smiled shyly, feeling a bit foolish for asking. “Well, that’s okay. Never mind.”

Baekhyun looked at him for a moment, standing there with his gym bag over his shoulder. “Are you hungry, Chanyeol?” he asked, out of nowhere. Chanyeol hadn’t really thought about it until now, but his stomach _was_ growling; it was past 8 o’clock, and he hadn’t eaten since midday.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “A bit.”

“I know you’re probably really tired and all, but I was going to go grab a bite at that fried chicken place across the road, if you want to join me.” Baekhyun turned away from Chanyeol and started fixing his hair in the mirrored wall. “Up to you.” He smiled at his reflection. “You can even roll me home afterwards, if you like.”

“Sure,” Chanyeol said. The reply came without hesitation, even though he was ready to fall asleep in the first place he fell. He looked at his watch to check the time, feigning nonchalance, but his heart was pounding at a million miles a minute. “It’s not so late, I suppose.”

Baekhyun grinned. “Cool. Well, I hope you’ll let me take care of it this time, after that stunt you pulled the other day..”

Chanyeol just smiled back at him and said, “we’ll see.” He didn’t know if he should treat the event like a date or not, but then he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored walls, saw about twenty disheveled messes staring back at him, and figured it was probably better not to assume. Baekhyun changed his shirt before they left the studio, swapping it for a simple long-sleeved black tee — one so tight that Chanyeol could see outlines of the muscle hidden beneath the clingy fabric. His hair, damp and messy only minutes before, now fell nicely over his forehead again, even though it seemed like all he'd done was run his hands through it. He smelled good, only a hint of sweat lingering beneath a fresh layer of citrusy cologne. Chanyeol, on the other hand, felt like shit, and figured he probably smelled like it too, but somehow he felt satisfied at the same time — pleasantly spent in that warm, tingly sort of way that often comes after a good healthy bit of exercise followed by a short nap. It was a welcome change from the unbearable, head-crushing kind of exhaustion that he was used to feeling.

A little later, they were seated with a platter full of fried chicken on the table in front of them, digging in without restraint. Baekhyun wasn’t so conscious of his diet anymore, he explained; during his remission periods, at least, he was so active that he felt he had the right to pig out occasionally. With a body like that, Chanyeol agreed with him. He was fascinated by the way Baekhyun ate — so neatly and delicately that he barely got any grease on his fingers at all. Chanyeol’s hands were already slick with it.

“Did you enjoy your second class?” Baekhyun asked, around a mouthful of chicken. “You seemed a little forced into it tonight.”

“Not at all; I’m really enjoying it. I'm just getting used to it, I guess,” Chanyeol said. “So what do you like to do when you're not dancing, then?” he asked, sucking grease off one of his thumbs. Classy, as always.

Baekhyun shrugged. “I live and breathe it, pretty much… I know I should probably consider an alternative, given my situation, but there isn’t really anything else that I love. I really miss dancing in front of an audience, too.” He paused for a moment, looking down at his plate, then picked up a wing and broke it in half at the joint with his fingers. “How about you?”

“Oh, it's really just something I'd like to do for fun. I’ve had no experience or training whatsoever.”

“You know, for someone with no dance training, you move quite well,” Baekhyun said. He smiled. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t keep you awake long enough tonight.”

Chanyeol let out a nervous little laugh, and immediately regretted it when he felt the muscles in his neck go slack. He shook his head to get rid of the feeling. “I guess it comes somewhat naturally to me,” he said, slurring a little. He cleared his throat and returned his attention to the drumstick in his hand. “Having a good sense of rhythm probably helps.”

“You must have done a lot of dancing around your bedroom when you were younger,” Baekhyun said, in a playfully accusing tone. If he noticed that Chanyeol’s speech sounded funny all of a sudden, then he didn’t mention it.

Chanyeol smiled down at his half-gnawed chicken leg. “Something like that.”

“What made you want to become a music therapist, anyway?” Baekhyun asked. “It’s a unique career choice… certainly not something you come across every day.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I like music, and I like helping people… it just seemed like a good thing for me to do.” This was the truth, sort of, but not all of it. In reality, his illness had snuffed out any real aspirations to be a concert pianist, as Chanyeol had wanted originally. But that was another story for another time.

Baekhyun nodded, apparently satisfied with the response. “I see.” He reached for his beer, taking a sip. “Are you dating anyone right now..?”

“Me?” Chanyeol went blank at the unexpected question. “No… not at the moment.”

They were both silent for a couple of seconds. Baekhyun smiled with one side of his mouth. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask if _I’m_ dating anyone…?”

Chanyeol just stared at him dumbly. “Um… are you dating anyone..?”

Baekhyun laughed. “You don’t really have much to say, do you?” His tone was one of gentle teasing, not critical or accusatory, but Chanyeol felt slightly attacked anyway. He smiled — just a quick one to discourage it from turning into a chuckle, and took a sip of his lemonade. “I guess not,” he said. “I am a man of few words. It usually works for me; I appear smarter and more mysterious that way.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s alright with me.” Baekhyun had his elbows on the table, and he leaned toward Chanyeol a little with his chin cradled in his hands, looking at him intently. “It’s not a bad thing, being quiet… I was once married, you know, and my wife loved to talk. She talked _a lot_ — I used to call her ‘parrot’. I do miss her, very much, but… sometimes I think I don't mind a bit of silence.”

“Fair enough.” Chanyeol swallowed the piece of chicken in his mouth, and felt it sticking in his throat. He drank some lemonade to wash it down. “I saw the ring and I wondered..”

“I still wear it sometimes, out of respect,” Baekhyun said quietly. “I lost her a couple of years ago.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun blankly, unsure of what to say. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sure you are. But you can keep your sorry... I’ve already got enough of that to last me a lifetime,” Baekhyun said, not unkindly. His lips were smiling, but it didn’t go all the way to his eyes. “Anyway, to answer your question — no, I’m not dating anyone right now. And that suits me just fine.”

“Ah. Yeah, me too.” Chanyeol picked up his napkin, swiping it over his mouth. “Who even needs dating, anyway? Pointless exercise. Not to mention expensive.”

Baekhyun laughed again. He really was especially lovely when he laughed; it made Chanyeol feel things, and that was never a good idea. But he couldn't help himself — he laughed too, and as soon as he did, his head dropped forward, his grip around the glass in his hand loosened and down it fell, smashing to pieces on the floor. He blinked at the pile of glass shards for a moment, wondering where it came from, before he realised what had happened.

“Woah,” Baekhyun said, looking at Chanyeol with wide eyes, and then at the broken glass on the floor. “Are you alright..?”

Chanyeol continued to stare at the glass in mortification. “Yeah. I... I just felt a bit dizzy again.”

“It’s okay.” Baekhyun raised a hand to get a passing staff member's attention. “No need to be embarrassed. Like I said, I drop things all the time.”

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol said, standing up from his seat. “I have to go.” It was coming; he _knew_ it was coming. He had to at least try to get home — or far away from Baekhyun — before it did.

Baekhyun frowned; he tilted his head to the side again, looking worried. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because you don’t look it.”

Chanyeol was still staring blankly at the mess on the floor. A teenage boy in a black apron hurried over with a dustpan and brush, and began to sweep up the broken glass. “Yeah. I just don't feel so hot right now.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Baekhyun asked quietly. “Please tell me if I did.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “It's not you,” he said, “I just need to go home. I'm sorry. I'm fine, really… just very tired.” He opened his wallet and put some money down on the table. “That should cover the whole thing. Please, tonight's on me,” he said, when Baekhyun made a gesture of objection.

“Will I see you again?” Baekhyun called out, while Chanyeol was walking away — that's what it sounded like he was saying, anyway, but Chanyeol already felt like he was underwater, and the words weren't clear. He turned around, gave Baekhyun a nod and a smile, or something vaguely resembling a smile, and then hurried out the door. He regretted looking back, seeing the sad puppy-dog look on that pretty face. Many of his dates in the past had ended in similar ways; that was why he hadn’t really tried dating again since Jongin. Not that his dinner with Baekhyun had been a date, but there was a part of him that wanted it to be, a tiny flicker of _maybe it could work out this time_ , and it was better for everyone involved if he stamped that out as soon as possible.

A few steps out of the door, Chanyeol’s legs turned to rubber and he felt his knees give out. Next thing he knew, he was on the ground; he lay there for a moment, gathering whatever strength he could, and then got up, dragging himself over to a small recess in the wall between two shops, to get out of the way of passers-by. Then the ground was pulled out from beneath his feet again, and the world went black.

He woke up a little later to a terrible feeling of heaviness, and someone fumbling around in the pockets of his trousers. The paralysis hadn't worn off yet, and Chanyeol could barely blink, let alone push the invader off him. Part of him was terrified, but another, much smaller part told him it was probably another hallucination; he closed his eyes again until he felt the hands move away, still foggy with sleep.

Nightmares weren’t nightmares; Chanyeol knew that much. Waking up again — the crushing weight of realisation, that anchor pulling him back down to earth, that was the nightmare.

When he could move again, he slipped his hands into his pockets; his wallet, phone and keys were all still there. His backpack was still hanging on to his arm by a single strap. Relieved, he slowly got to his feet, dusted off his clothes and pulled the stupid golden helmet out of his bag, putting it on his head just in case. He walked along the street in a daze, watching the cat eyes in the road shining with each passing vehicle, until he saw the illuminated sign of a vacant cab coming his way. He stood at the side of the road to flag it down. The driver gave him an odd look when he hopped in, probably because of the helmet, but Chanyeol was too exhausted to care.

Again he fell asleep on the way home, the driver poking him with the end of a wooden backscratcher to wake him up. As soon as Chanyeol stumbled through the front door of his apartment, someone called his mobile; the vibration startled him, almost bringing him to his knees again. Groaning, he pulled it out of his pocket and collapsed onto the sofa before answering it. “Hello..?”

“Hey, Yeol.” It was Jongdae. “Haven’t heard from you in a few days. You alright?”

“Yeah…fine.” Chanyeol put one hand over his eyes. “Just exhausted, I guess… what else is new.”

“Did you take your meds?” Jongdae asked, in a stern, fatherly sort of tone — Jongdae who checked up on him all the time, and probably worried about him a lot, and he couldn't even take his fucking meds.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said. It was only a half-lie, anyway; he’d taken the first nighttime dose before bed the previous night, and then slept through his alarm to wake up and take the second one. His daytime medication, a stimulant, usually wasn't enough on its own to get him through a whole day without collapsing; what mattered most was the amount of deep, drug-induced sleep he got during the night. Probably why he’d tanked so hard by the end of the day, he thought.

“Okay,” Jongdae said, thankfully not pressing him for more information. “How are you generally? Work okay? You all good for supplies..?”

Chanyeol slowly got up, walked over and looked inside his fridge. Not much in there: half a carton of milk on the edge of expiring… some old bread that would probably only be good for toast. A few shrivelled-looking apples in the fruit bowl on the bench behind him. He could sort that shit out on his own tomorrow. He closed the fridge door and said, “I reckon I’ll be okay for a couple more days.”

“Alright. Well, call me and we’ll go shopping together, okay?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol said, and then he hung up. He walked over to his bedroom and fell on top of the bed with a tiny, muffled whimper of despair. Jongdae or one of the others would usually offer to accompany him whenever he had personal errands to attend to, normal everyday stuff like grocery shopping. He didn’t trust himself behind the wheel anymore, and carrying more than a few bags at a time was a monumental task if one of his friends wasn’t there with a car. They knew what he was like — that he put off shopping as long as he could sometimes, because it could be a delicate operation; that he was nervous because of certain embarrassing incidents that had occurred previously: falling asleep in the aisles and on the shoulder of the person in front of him in the checkout line; collapsing head-first inside his own shopping trolley and knocking it over; waking up on the way home, confused, with fruit and vegetables rolling around on the pavement beside him. Chanyeol sometimes wondered what he feared more: injuring himself, or the rich potential for humiliation caused by the inability to control one’s body in a public space. Both were equally scarring, just in different ways.

Really, it was the luck of the draw. Last time he went shopping alone, it went off without a hitch, but the time before that he went down in the frozen food section, and woke up thinking he was in Antarctica or something. Judging from how cold he felt, he’d been there a while, no one bothering to nudge him awake; maybe they were all used to him by now, or maybe it was just that no one cared. But the dream he’d had while he lay there was so vivid, so beautiful, that he still thought about it all the time: they were out on a lake that had frozen solid, just him and someone else he couldn't name or recognise, couldn’t even remember the face of after he woke up. He only knew that he loved them dearly, whoever they were, and they were dancing together, just the two of them twirling on the ice by the soft light of a magical moon, not slipping or losing their footing even once. And the moon in the land of Chanyeol’s dreams was big and powder-blue and looked like he could reach out and hold on to it, but the one he woke up to in this world was indifferent, small and cold, always slipping through the fingers of his outstretched hands.

 _Just like love,_ he thought, and before he fell asleep on top of the covers with his boogie shoes still on, he saw in his mind’s eye that look on Baekhyun’s face from earlier in the evening, when he’d walked out on him all over again. Simultaneous hope and disappointment. _Just like love._

 

 

 

 

_vi._

Over the following weeks, Chanyeol went to every single one of Baekhyun’s beginners ballroom classes, no matter the weather or how tired he was that day. There were a couple of reasons for his perfect attendance: naturally getting to see Baekhyun was a big part of it, but somehow he also felt he’d be letting both of them down if he didn’t show up. It didn’t take long for him to discover a third reason — he loved dancing. Some of the people he got paired with were better than others, but he always really enjoyed himself; he even found he could get through most classes without feeling the urge to fall sleep, which was itself a revelation. If he did feel unbearably tired, he would excuse himself from a class a bit early, saying that he wasn't feeling well, or he would go to the bathroom, splash water on his face and hope it was enough to keep him going. His newfound love for ballroom dancing seemed to be reason enough for Chanyeol’s body to push itself through the barriers of exhaustion.

Dr. Kim was right, it seemed; regular exercise really did help.

He began to practise alone in his spare time, sometimes at home, other times going down to the beach to ‘shadow dance’ in the same way he used to watch Baekhyun doing. He would practise whenever he could — in whatever way he could. His feet relived each dance style whenever he sat at his office or in his music room at home; he counted the steps under his breath for each one — Merengue, Quickstep, Foxtrot, and Rumba — and it soon became such a habit that he wasn’t always aware of it. He even sometimes did it while waiting for clients to arrive, and was occasionally embarrassed when one of them walked in on him, catching him twirling around the cramped little office with his arms held up to support his imaginary partner.

His efforts showed, apparently. “You've been practising on your own, haven't you?” Baekhyun said to him during class one evening; he was doing the rounds as he usually did, stopping at each couple to study their movements.

Chanyeol wondered if he'd been spotted in public somewhere, and felt slightly embarrassed. “Why do you ask…?”

“I can just tell. Your posture is much better than it was before.” Chanyeol felt warm hands on the back of his shoulders, moving up over his arms to straighten them a little. “I’m very impressed,” Baekhyun whispered in his ear, “keep it up.”

Chanyeol didn’t know if there was any such thing as a dancing bug, but if there was one, he’d been bitten right in the arse; the secret thrill he got from winning Baekhyun's admiration didn't hurt, either. The benefits of dancing seemed to extend to other areas of his life; lately he’d been more inspired to sit down at home and muck around with the piano or guitar, and was beginning to write some things down — parts of melodies, little musical bits and pieces that he came up with while experimenting. It felt good to be getting back into the swing of things again. He still hadn’t told his friends about his new pastime, and he didn’t really feel the need to. It was nice to have something he did purely for himself, and he wanted to keep it that way. But there must have been something new in the way he held himself, something noticeable; something he was blind to, but everyone else could see clearly.

“There’s definitely something different about you,” Jongdae said while the five of them were out for dinner one night, at the same fried chicken place Chanyeol had gone to with Baekhyun. He looked to Amber for a second opinion. “What do you think it is, Amber? I can’t put my finger on it.”

Amber studied Chanyeol for a moment and shrugged. “He seems… I dunno. Taller…?”

“He seems more lively, to me,” Joohyun said thoughtfully. “Maybe even happier.” She had a mischievous smile on her face all of a sudden. “Yeol, are you dating someone…?”

“No!” Chanyeol blurted out, a little too quickly to be convincing, even though it was true — he wasn't dating anyone. He cleared his throat and said, “I don't know what you're all on about. Nothing’s changed. I'm the same boring old fart I’ve always been.”

His friends all exchanged glances with each other, making no effort to hide the fact. Kibum wiggled his eyebrows at Amber.

“Stop that,” Chanyeol said, looking from one to the other. “Stop communicating with your eyes.” He looked up then to see a head of blazing red hair bobbing through the front door of the restaurant, and froze in his seat. A part of him knew who it was before he even saw Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun had just seen him too — Chanyeol wasn’t exactly hard to spot, being that tall — and now he was waving. Chanyeol just gawked at him, trying to formulate a plot that would somehow keep these two worlds he inhabited separately from colliding with each other; but Joohyun had already noticed that he was looking at something behind her, and she turned around to see Baekhyun grinning and waving at them from where he stood in front of the take-out counter.

“Hey, do you know that guy over there?” She turned around again, smiling at Chanyeol. “He’s really cute.”

“What, as cute as me? Surely not.” Jongdae turned around too, very quickly. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then turned around again to get a second look, as though trying to remember something. “Damn, he _is_ cute… are you hitting that, Yeol?”

“No,” Chanyeol replied. _I wish._

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him before,” Jongdae said. “Is he a friend of yours?“

Chanyeol froze, searching his panic-addled mind for the correct response. “Um… sort of?”

“Well, I’ve definitely met him somewhere… couldn't miss that hair. He must have come into the pharmacy at some point. Let’s tell him to come and join us.” Jongdae started waving Baekhyun over, and Chanyeol tried not to look like he was dying on the inside, even though he was. Baekhyun said something to the girl at the take-out counter, and then started walking towards them. His gait was a little lopsided today, but he didn’t have his cane with him and didn't seem to be in any pain. His footsteps were light, but somehow Chanyeol heard each one inside his own head. It was a deafening, ominous sound, like hammers hitting piano strings, or lightning striking the earth, getting closer and closer. Baekhyun was just about to reach their table when he slipped over and landed on his backside on the restaurant floor, sitting there in the middle of it with a look of surprise on his face. Without thinking, Chanyeol was up and out of his seat so fast he nearly fell on top of him.

“Baek! Are you alright?” He held out a hand to help Baekhyun up. Baekhyun just sat there on the floor, blinking up at him, looking bewildered. Then, at last, he laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he said, accepting Chanyeol’s hand. “Sorry… I made a bit of an entrance back there, didn’t I?”

“Are you okay?” Joohyun asked. “That was quite a fall.”

“I’m alright, I promise,” Baekhyun said, dusting off the back of his pants. “I’m just a bit of a klutz sometimes.”

“Well, we’re Chanyeol's friends.” Amber gave him her biggest, friendliest smile. “Would you like to sit with us?”

“We’ve over-ordered, as usual,” Kibum added, “so please dig in. Don’t be shy.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun said, with a nervous little laugh, “I don't want to intrude or anything… I actually just ordered some take-out, but then I saw Chanyeol sitting here and I thought I'd better come and say hi.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding _at all_.” Jongdae grinned at Baekhyun, sticking out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Jongdae, this is my girlfriend Joohyun, and this is Amber and her partner Kibum. And it appears that you already know our good friend Chanyeol.”

“I’m Baekhyun. It’s lovely to meet you all,” Baekhyun said pleasantly. Jongdae's eyes met Chanyeol's, and he wiggled his eyebrows, but Chanyeol didn't humour him. He pulled out the empty chair next to his place at the table. “Here, Baekhyun; have a seat.”

“Well, alright. I won’t be cramping your style, I hope.” Baekhyun smiled and sat down next to Chanyeol. He caught the attention of a passing waiter and asked if he could get his take-out order to eat in instead, and then ordered a beer to go with it.

“No cramping whatsoever,” Jongdae said, still grinning at Baekhyun like he was the second coming or something. “Any friend of Chanyeol’s is a friend of ours.”

“So how long have you two been friends, Baekhyun?” Joohyun asked politely. “Chanyeol's never mentioned you before.”

“Oh. Well, we met at Starship a little while ago… how long has it been, a couple of months now?” Baekhyun said, turning to Chanyeol. The waiter returned with his beer and he nodded his thanks, picking up the glass and taking a sip.

Jongdae feigned an expression of shock. “The legend himself! So _you_ must be the mystery guy Yeol had a bit of a dance with that night… wow. What an honour this is.”

“In the flesh and everything,” Kibum said, with due reverence.

“We never even saw you two at it,” Amber said, winking at Chanyeol. “We thought he was making the whole thing up.”

“Your fault for running off on me.” Chanyeol chewed savagely on his straw, leaving it bent in several places. “Rotten deserters, all of you.”

“He completely out-danced me that night,” Baekhyun said, giving Chanyeol's shoulder a playful nudge. “I was very impressed.”

“Baekhyun’s a ballroom dancer,” Chanyeol explained to the group. “As in, the real deal. He used to compete and everything.”

“Chanyeol out-danced an actual dancer? Pull the other one.” Jongdae chuckled at the thought. “Got a thing for dancers, don’t you..?” Chanyeol kicked him under the table, shooting him a _shut-the-fuck-up!_ kind of look, but Jongdae just smirked and looked away.

“Chanyeol’s great. He’s one of my star students, actually.” Baekhyun leaned forward a little, as though about to tell them all a secret. “I like to think it's because he has a little crush on his teacher,” he said in a loud whisper, “although I might be wrong.”

Chanyeol nearly choked on a mouthful of Coke.

 _“Holy shit,”_ Amber shrieked, clapping her hands in delight. “Yeolo, you’re learning ballroom! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Jongdae leaned across the table to punch Chanyeol on the shoulder, nearly upsetting several beer glasses in the process. “That's great, man… good for you. I mean I’m surprised, you know, considering.”

Baekhyun lifted his glass of beer to take another sip, and then he dropped it. It hit the edge of the table and smashed on the floor, shards of glass flying everywhere. “Taxi!” Jongdae yelled out, which was followed by a moment of silence around the table.

“Um, oops.” Baekhyun laughed sheepishly. “Sorry.” He turned to Chanyeol and said, “between you and me, we’ll probably end up breaking every glass in this place.”

“Are you okay?” Joohyun asked.

“Oh, I'm fine.” Baekhyun held one of his hands in front of him, stretching out his fingers a couple of times. “I’m just having a bit of trouble feeling my fingers today.”

Jongdae gave him a quizzical look. “Is that normal..?”

“Yeah, it's all good,” Baekhyun said, waving a hand around casually. “I have a bit of the old MS, that’s all. Numb extremities, shaky hands… sometimes I drop shit. It happens.” He looked a bit shaken, Chanyeol thought. _I have a bit of the old MS, that’s all_ … he talked about it so easily. Might as well have been telling Jongdae that he had a headache, or a zit on his forehead. Chanyeol wondered if he should start referring to his own condition in such a frivolous way. _I have a bit of the old narcolepsy, that’s all. Sometimes I fall asleep in weird places and hallucinate about people trying to murder me. It happens._

“Oh, I see.” Jongdae looked thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t realise.” Then he looked at Chanyeol, and it was a knowing look; Chanyeol could see his brain chewing this over, how he was drawing parallels — Chanyeol making friends with another chronically ill person, oh how cute. Maybe they could go on medication runs together down at the pharmacy, and link arms sweetly while they each tossed back their pills every morning; a match made in Spoonie heaven.

“I know where I’ve seen you before,” Jongdae said, after a moment’s silence. He clicked his fingers. “You picked up an Avonex prescription from me not too long ago, didn’t you? I work at the pharmacy.”

“Ah! I was thinking you looked really familiar too,” Baekhyun said, laughing. “Now I know why.”

“I thought it was you. There aren't too many people with fire-engine-red hair around here,” Jongdae said. “If I recall, I asked if you were alright with self-injecting, and you said to me very casually, ‘yeah, I usually just do it in the butt.’ You were so relaxed about the whole thing that I couldn’t help laughing about it.”

Baekhyun laughed again. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like me.” His eyes met Chanyeol’s, and he smiled. “What a small world, huh?”

There was silence around the table for a moment, and Chanyeol couldn’t tell if it was awkward or not. His eyelids began to feel heavy.

“I’m sorry… I hope I didn't embarrass you by mentioning that,” Jongdae said to Baekhyun. “I was just impressed by your attitude, that's all. I see a lot of people with health issues in my line of work, but I don’t come across many who can look at things with such good humour.”

"I'm not embarrassed at all.” Baekhyun's response was a quiet, slow-motion drawl. “I do realise that I'm not well. It is what it is.”

 _I'm going to pass out,_ Chanyeol told himself. _Right here at this fucking table._

He stood up before anyone could say another word. “I need some air… I’ll be right back.” He was already beginning to slur, and as usual it made him sound like he was drunk, even though he hadn’t touched a drop.

Amber frowned at him. “Are you okay..?”

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol said, giving her what he hoped was a pleading look; he was panicking now, and it only made the feeling worse. He had a hunch Jongdae might follow him, and saw Amber whispering to him about something, which meant she was probably telling him to go check on Chanyeol… but that was okay. If he could just get to the bathroom in time, he could sit down inside a stall until the feeling passed and then emerge again, fresh and calm as if nothing had happened, and hopefully Baekhyun would be none the wiser. But that was probably wishful thinking.

Chanyeol staggered away from the table, and barely made it into the bathroom before cataplexy took over, falling to his knees on the tiles as soon as he got through the swinging door. Still hanging on to a thread of consciousness, he heard hurried footsteps approaching, as predicted. He held his breath.

“Yeol?” It was Jongdae’s voice, coming from somewhere outside. “Yeol, are you in there..?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol tried to say, but what came out was only an unintelligible sound of desperation. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. His eyes were closed, but he heard the door swing open and the footsteps coming over beside him.

“God, Chanyeol… are you alright?” Jongdae must have been kneeling on the bathroom floor, because Chanyeol felt a warm hand rubbing his back. “It’s okay. Just take your time.”

He went to sleep then -- for how long, he didn't know, but long enough to dream. A dream about dancing through the solar system, for some reason — sliding down Saturn’s ring, swinging over to Jupiter. At any rate, it all made sense to him at the time, and the celestial bodies were generally very supportive of his moves, but Pluto was a bit of a heckler. “You can't dance for shit!” he said — if Pluto was a he, who really knew? “Even Uranus is a better dancer than you.”

“Don’t listen to him, my sweet,” Neptune said kindly. “He’s not even a planet.”

“Buuuurn,” whispered the Sun.

When Chanyeol opened his eyes again, he was back in the bathroom of the fried chicken place, his cheek pressed against the cold tiles. Jongdae was still there on the floor next to him, one hand rubbing his back. Chanyeol groaned and tried to roll over, but he couldn’t.

“You alright, buddy?” Jongdae asked. “You passed out for a bit.”

Someone else came into the bathroom then; Chanyeol could only see his shoes, but he sounded concerned when he spoke. “Everything alright in here?”

“Yeah, thanks mate,” Jongdae said to the man. “He just collapses, sometimes… it’s a condition he has. It’s not life-threatening.”

“Okay. Just checking.” The footsteps moved into a stall, followed by the sound of a lock turning.

“Why did you follow me in here?” Chanyeol said irritably, when he could speak again. “Now he's going to think something's wrong..”

“Who?” Jongdae asked, “that guy over there?”

“ _No_ , you idiot… Baekhyun.”

Jongdae sighed. “I wanted to make sure you were alright, that’s all… I could tell this was going to happen. Do you think I can't spot it by now—?”

“He doesn't _know_ , Jongdae,” Chanyeol said, cutting him off; he slowly sat up, wincing at the pain in his knees from when he’d fallen on them. He would have some serious bruising tomorrow, for sure.

“What do you mean, he doesn't know?” Jongdae looked confused. “About what?”

Chanyeol swallowed. “About the narcolepsy,” he said quietly.

There was silence for a moment while Jongdae pondered this. “How can he _not_ know…?”

“Because I haven’t told him yet, obviously.” The irritation Chanyeol felt made him go weak again, and he began to fall forward, Jongdae reaching out to prop him up just in time.

“Woah,” he said, concern flashing in his eyes. “Easy. Maybe you should stay sitting down for a moment. I know you’re on a gross bathroom floor, but I don’t think getting up too soon will do you any good.”

“I’m sorry... I didn't meant to snap at you,” Chanyeol said quietly. “I’m just a bit stressed, that’s all.” Jongdae looked at him with an expression of concern, and he hated it; he knew his friends worried about him enough as it was.

“Don't you think you should tell him?” Jongdae said, lowering his voice a little when the man in the stall came out to wash his hands. “I’m surprised you've managed to keep it from him for this long, when your whole life revolves around it. I mean, this is your reality now; are you willing to keep the poor guy at arm's length just so he won't find out?”

“I want him to form an opinion of me without all that stuff getting in the way. Anyway, he might not look at me the same way if he finds out I'm defective… what if he feels let down?”

Jongdae let out a heavy sigh. “You're not defective, Chanyeol, you're just... I don’t know…”

“Don't even think about using the other D word,” Chanyeol muttered. “I can still kick you from down here, you know.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Jongdae said, with a gesture of defeat, “but I don't know what you want me to tell you. Why are you always so convinced that people are judging you for something you can't help?”

“Because they are.” Chanyeol leaned forward, burying his head in his hands for a moment. “Do you think I don’t see it? I’m not blind.” He remembered how he always used to fall asleep in class at school — he had no idea what narcolepsy was back then, of course, thought he just wasn’t sleeping enough. All those end-of-term reports scrawled in stern red pen: _Lazy, lazy, lazy. Always drifting off in class. No participation. Responds to all questions with a blank stare. Is he even present, or is that a cardboard cut-out propped up in his seat? We will never know._ Years later, the people around him were a little more forgiving, but he still got complaints from the parents of kids he tutored privately, saying they’d heard he sometimes fell asleep during their music lessons. At first Chanyeol had been apologetic about it, but then he started being more firm in his responses: “I have a condition and I can’t help it,” he would say. “If it bothers you, you can withdraw your child from my schedule. I can afford to drop a private student here and there.” He rarely got any further complaints after that.

Jongdae looked down at Chanyeol helplessly, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Well, what do you want me to do? I don’t know what to say to you, Chanyeol.”

“I don’t want to be someone’s problem, Jongdae,” Chanyeol said quietly. “He clearly has enough of his own.”

Jongdae sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m sure he of all people would understand what it's like to struggle with something like this. Anyway, think about how _you'd_ feel if he tried to hide his MS from you. Don't you think you'd be at least a little bit hurt?”

“I don't know.” Chanyeol shrugged. “I guess... well, not if he had his reasons..?”

Jongdae just shook his head. “Whatever… it’s your life. I'm not going to tell you what to do. But he seems like a really nice guy, Yeol; whatever you’re going through, he’s going to get it more than anyone else. I don’t know why you’d want to push someone like that away.”

“Can we maybe not talk about this in the bathroom?” Chanyeol muttered. “Anyway, I don't want another Jongin situation… I can't go through that again. Baekhyun and I are just friends.”

“That's not the vibe I'm getting, but okay — be friends, then. Wouldn’t hurt you to have a few more of those, anyway.” Jongdae patted Chanyeol on the shoulder and got to his feet, then helped Chanyeol do the same.

“I’ll tell him, Jongdae,” Chanyeol said quietly, “I promise. I just need a bit more time.”

Jongdae looked at him with a gentle expression. “Alright,” he whispered. “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said, “just give me a minute. I'll come out soon.” When Jongdae started to walk away, he added, “and don't say anything if anyone asks, okay? Just say I was feeling sick, and you went to check up on me.”

Jongdae nodded. “Fine,” he said, miming a zipping motion over his lips, and then he smiled. Chanyeol watched him leave the bathroom, and went to one of the sinks to splash some cold water on his face. It probably wouldn’t do much, but it was all he had.

When he returned to the table and sat down, Baekhyun looked a little worried, as expected. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You were gone a long time.”

“Yeah. Fine.” Chanyeol patted his stomach. “Intestinal emergency. No big deal.”

“Yikes.” Baekhyun didn't look too convinced, but to Chanyeol's relief he didn't press the issue further. The others just shared a few glances and looked at Chanyeol sympathetically, but they had the tact not to say anything, and Chanyeol felt a warm flood of gratitude for them, despite how much they babied him at times.

“So,” Kibum said, when everyone was settled in again, “when do we get to see those sweet dance moves, then?”

Chanyeol froze in his seat. “Well, I was kind of hoping for never..”

“Our dancing school hosts a summer concert at the end of every year, where students can show off what they’ve learned over the past twelve months,” Baekhyun piped up suddenly. He smiled his crinkly-eyed smile. “If Chanyeol participates, maybe you can all come and watch him.”

“Um. What..?” Chanyeol said, turning to stare at him in horror. Baekhyun had the audacity to grin back at him, entirely innocently.

“Oh, go on… your friends want to see you dance, Chanyeol,” he said, pretending to pout. “Are you really going to deprive them of the honour?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol said, as though this were the only obvious answer. “Yes, that is exactly what I'm going to do.”

“Come on, Yeol,” Amber whined, “don’t be mean. Can’t we even watch you just one time?”

“But I haven't been dancing for twelve months... barely two, in fact. I don’t even have anything worth showing.”

“Oh, don't listen to him,” Baekhyun said, without letting Chanyeol finish. “For someone of his level, he's _very_ good. He’s managed to pick up every dance style we’ve covered so far, much quicker than most people in the class. He just likes to put himself down, for some reason.”

Chanyeol groaned. “Alright, fine… I’ll do it.” He thought for a moment, wondering where he could find a silver lining in the situation. “I'll do it, _if_ you do it with me.”

 _“Me?”_ Baekhyun laughed at the suggestion. “I’m an instructor. The concert is for students.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “So?” He smiled mischievously at Baekhyun. “Weren’t you the one who said you missed dancing in front of an audience..?”

Baekhyun considered this and said, “alright. If it means I can get you up on that stage, I’ll dance with you.”

“Fine,” Chanyeol said. “Good.”

“But then we’ll have to do not one routine, but two,” Baekhyun added, holding up two fingers. “And in different styles. Those are my conditions.”

Chanyeol let out a snort of disbelief. “Seriously..?”

“Do I look like I’m joking? We still have a couple of months... that's enough time to learn two dances, if we do a bit of extra practice outside of class hours.” Baekhyun paused, thinking before he spoke again. “To make it fair, we can each pick one dance style that we like most. How’s that?”

Chanyeol’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay. You’re on.” He could sense his friends looking back and forth between them with interest, but no one interrupted their little exchange. “I choose the Foxtrot, in that case.”

“Rumba,” Baekhyun replied simply, with a tiny, victorious smile curling his lips up at the edges.

Chanyeol rolled his eyes. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“What? It’s the dance of _lurve_. It’s meant to be sexy and fun.” Baekhyun was grinning now, his eyes crinkling at the corners again. “Oh,” he said, “but if it so happens that i'm unwell at the time of the concert, then neither of us will have to perform. Agreed?”

Chanyeol held out his hand so they could shake on it. “Agreed.”

“What the hell just happened..?” Amber said, to no one in particular.

“I feel like we just witnessed something historically important,” Jongdae replied in a loud whisper.

“The beginning of something beautiful,” Kibum said, dreamy-eyed and smiling, his chin resting upon his hand.

As expected, Chanyeol spent the rest of the dinner trying not to fall asleep again. Thankfully, his friends were better than he was at making conversation, and this seemed to adequately detract Baekhyun's attention away from the fact that anything might be wrong. Then he felt something rubbing against his foot. Just an accident, he thought at first, but no — there it was a second time, and then a third.

Was it actually happening? He looked at Baekhyun, who smiled back at him — well, more of a smirk, really. Then his eyes flickered away.

It _was_ happening, Chanyeol thought. The little wretch was playing footsie with him under the table, and not being very subtle about it, either.

“What do you think you’re doing under there…?” he asked, leaning over to whisper in Baekhyun’s ear.

Baekhyun winked at him. “My feet miss dancing with you,” he whispered back. “They can’t help themselves.” His hand was right there on the edge of his seat, and Chanyeol thought about reaching over to hold it, but he didn’t.

After the dinner was over, they all stood around outside the restaurant for a couple of minutes, saying their goodbyes. “Well, I guess I’ll be off, then… the joys of living down the road,” Baekhyun said, smiling at Chanyeol. The two of them had separated from the rest of the group for a moment, and Chanyeol could feel his friends watching him, but for once he didn’t care.

“Will you be alright?” he asked quietly. “You don’t need me to walk you over? Or roll you over… whichever it may be.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “It’s fine. No rolling necessary.” He lifted a hand up, and Chanyeol was half-expecting him to pinch his cheek or something, but instead he let his hand rest there for a moment, warm on the side of Chanyeol’s face. He smiled and moved it away. “You have some great friends, by the way. Make sure you hang on to them.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chanyeol said. “And it seems they really liked you, so you might be forced to spend time with us more often.”

Baekhyun chuckled softly. “That wouldn’t be such a hardship.” Without warning, he stood on his toes and gave Chanyeol a kiss on the cheek, not far from the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you at class,” he said, winking, and then he walked away. When he got to the other side of the road, he turned around again and waved. Chanyeol waved back. As soon as Baekhyun was out of earshot, someone let out a long, loud wolf-whistle from behind him — Jongdae, probably.

“Shut up,” Chanyeol said, turning around to glare at him; but he was glowing on the inside, and he knew there was no hiding the fact.

“So when were you going to tell us about this whole dancing business, huh?” Jongdae asked, while he and Joohyun were giving Chanyeol a ride home afterwards.

Chanyeol shrugged. “I would have told you eventually.”

“Hah! Like hell you would,” Jongdae grumbled. “I can’t believe we had to get it out of your friend… we probably would’ve never found out about _him_ either, if we hadn’t accidentally met him tonight.”

“You don’t have to know about everything that happens to me,” Chanyeol said.

“Ouch.” Jongdae frowned at him in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you want us to take an interest in every single aspect of your life?”

“Well… maybe not _every_ single aspect. Maybe a couple here and there.”

“Don’t worry about Jongdae… he’s just messing around, as usual.” Joohyun turned around to smile at Chanyeol from the front passenger seat. “We’re really happy for you, you know — for getting out there and having some fun, and finding something new to love while you’re at it. And Baekhyun seems really nice, too. You should invite him out with us again next time.”

“Yeah, he seems great,” Jongdae added. “You sure you're not getting a little something—?”

“No!” The mere suggestion had Chanyeol flustered. “Fuck’s sake, Jongdae..”

“Alright, alright… just asking.” Chanyeol caught Jongdae smiling in the rearview mirror this time.

“Anyway, we’re just two people who fall over a lot and like dancing,” he said quietly, after a moment’s silence. He leaned his head back against the headrest, watching the streetlights pass by in a blur outside the car window. “It doesn't mean we have anything else in common.”

Jongdae let out a little huff of disbelief. “So? Having a lot of things in common is honestly overrated — do you think Joohyun and I have absolutely everything in common? We don’t… but somehow she’s still here, years later, hanging around me like a bad smell. So I figure I must be doing something right.”

Chanyeol pondered this for a moment. “True… I suppose you don’t have a whole lot in common. For starters, she has class and you don’t.”

Joohyun laughed, giving Jongdae’s leg a sympathetic pat. “Sorry, sweetie… you kinda had that one coming.”

“What is this, ‘Be Mean To Jongdae’ Day?” Jongdae muttered. “Look, I’m just saying, try something a bit different for once. You never know, you might be surprised.”

“I don’t think I can handle any more surprises,” Chanyeol said quietly. He wasn’t sure if anyone heard him, and if they did, they didn’t reply.

After Jongdae had dropped him off at home, he was just about ready to go to bed when he saw that Jongin had messaged him: _‘Hey, haven't heard from you much lately. You alright? Let me know when you can Skype.’_

Chanyeol sat there on the edge of the bed for several minutes, reading and re-reading the text. He switched his phone off without texting back, and then he spent the next half an hour or so shadow-dancing around his bed, until he collapsed on top of it and fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

_vii._

There was no mention from Baekhyun of the summer concert for the next few lessons, and Chanyeol began to assume he'd forgotten all about it, until _he_ began to forget about it himself. But then Baekhyun pulled him aside before one of their Thursday classes and said, “I’d like you to stay behind for a while after class ends. There’s something I want to show you.”

Chanyeol was nervous for the rest of the lesson, which made him lose focus while he was dancing. What could Baekhyun possibly have to show him? Was it something bad? Would he even have the energy to hang around that long? After the last person had left at the end, Baekhyun asked Chanyeol to sit down. He walked over to the stereo and fiddled with it for a moment; a song began to play, and he started dancing by himself around the room. Chanyeol thought the singer sounded a lot like Frank Sinatra, but he didn’t recognise the tune. Baekhyun continued to dance alone, looking at himself in the wall of mirrors every so often. There was nothing clunky or clumsy about the way he moved; every step was light, every turn tight and perfect, every slide elegant and quiet. It was almost impossible to believe that this was the same person who sometimes needed a cane to walk. After it was over, Chanyeol gave Baekhyun an enthusiastic round of applause, getting to his feet for a standing ovation.

“That was great,” he said, his mouth hanging open in awe. He clapped until his hands began to hurt. “Wow..”

Baekhyun smiled and gave Chanyeol a little bow. When he straightened himself again, his cheeks were flushed with a mixture of happiness and exertion. “So you reckon you could handle that?”

Chanyeol’s eyebrows shot up. “Handle what?”

“That was a version of the Foxtrot I’ve been working on over the past few weeks; I’m hoping it’ll be one of the two dances we’ll perform at the concert.” Baekhyun walked back over to the stereo — with a little spring in his step, Chanyeol noticed — to turn the music off. “It’s still a work in progress, but that’s what I’ve got so far. I just showed you the leading part, which is obviously the part you’d be dancing. What do you think..?”

Chanyeol nodded, trying not to look visibly terrified at how complicated the steps had looked when Baekhyun showed them to him. He was expecting the Foxtrot to be the easier of the two dances. “Uh, yeah,” he lied, trying to hide the uncontrollable grimace on his face, “I think I can do it..?”

_No I can’t. I can’t do that, at all, ever._

Baekhyun smiled, biting his lip. “You don’t seem very convinced.”

“You just make it look so effortless, that’s all,” Chanyeol said. “Even though you’re a dirty liar, and I know as soon as I try it myself, I’m just going to make a dog’s breakfast of it.”

Baekhyun looked unfazed. “So you wanna give it a try and see how you go?” He shrugged. “Who knows? You might surprise yourself.”

“You mean… right now?” The class had been especially strenuous that evening, and Chanyeol was just about ready to fall onto the nearest flat surface, and hopefully not move again until morning. But it looked like Baekhyun had other plans for him.

“No time like the present.” Baekhyun went to switch the music on again and turned around to face Chanyeol. “Let’s go through the basic Foxtrot steps again first, on our own. You’ve done this in class before, it’s really nothing new. All we’re doing is adding a few different steps to it, making it a little more interesting… giving it a personal twist, if you like.”

Sighing, Chanyeol nodded and stood opposite Baekhyun, waiting for instruction.

“Okay. Now, you step forward, I step back,” Baekhyun murmured, demonstrating for him. “Forward, forward, to the side, then together. Slow, slow, quick quick. You see? It’s not so hard. Let’s keep doing that until you get the hang of it.”

“How long do I have to do this for, exactly?” Chanyeol asked, trying — and failing — to hold back a yawn. “Isn’t the whole point of this ballroom business to dance with a partner..?”

Baekhyun didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He studied Chanyeol’s movements in silence, rubbing his boyishly-smooth chin as though he were some great thinker, every now and then making a little grunting sound to himself. Chanyeol felt stupid dancing around alone like that, watching all the silly versions of himself in the wall of mirrors as he Foxtrotted listlessly around the room. Baekhyun had him doing only this for the next fifteen minutes or so, but he was so tired that it felt much longer.

“Even advanced dancers shadow-dance from time to time,” Baekhyun said, responding at last. “First you have to learn how to hold your frame correctly, and then it helps to nut out the basic steps by yourself. Then you can start dancing with someone else — or with me, I suppose, in this case.” He chuckled softly at that last part. “Okay, I think that’s good enough… let’s try it together. Just the basic steps, for now.”

Chanyeol walked over and stood in front of him, and they both got into position. While they danced, Frank was singing something about a smile so warm, and a laugh that crinkled someone’s nose, and how it touched his foolish heart. Baekhyun had a laugh that crinkled his nose, Chanyeol thought. His body felt warm against Chanyeol’s. He wore the gold band on his ring finger again, and he was smiling, mouthing the words to the song with a tenderness in his eyes that seemed to surface only when they were dancing. He was beautiful up close, so beautiful, and Chanyeol knew he was falling; the sensation was so real that he could feel it all through his body, a literal swoon.

And then, a voice from far away, trickling through the cracks from another world.

“Chanyeol…”

Someone was patting his hand, rubbing the back of it. The hand moved to his forehead.

“Chanyeol, can you hear me?”

Chanyeol let out a soft groan. His eyelids fluttered open.

“Are you okay? You fainted.” Baekhyun crouched down beside Chanyeol, holding his hand and looking concerned, as usual. As soon as he could manage it, Chanyeol sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t faint. I fell asleep,” he said, and let out a sigh so heavy it deflated his entire body. He couldn’t do it anymore; he couldn’t lie to this beautiful person who had never been anything but honest with him. It just didn’t feel right. “It’s called narcolepsy. I can’t control it, it just happens.”

Baekhyun looked at Chanyeol for a long time, his brow furrowed. His expression eventually softened. “Chanyeol, I have a confession to make.”

“What is it..?”

Baekhyun chewed his lip. “I knew. I’ve known all along.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol said, blinking at him in surprise. “I see..”

“I figured it out on the night we met,” Baekhyun continued, in a quiet voice. “I saw the medical bracelet you were wearing. I have one too, but I hate it, so I never wear it either.” He sat down next to Chanyeol on the floor. “So I saw it around your wrist, and then the next minute it was gone. And I thought to myself, this guy clearly has reasons for not wanting me to know about his condition… so I didn't ask, because it isn't my business.” He laughed and said, “then you fell asleep on me, and I couldn’t wake you up. I figured it was better to just let you be, and save you from feeling like you needed to explain yourself. I didn’t even expect to see you again after that night, but I was really happy when you showed up at that first class. Still, I wanted you to have the option to tell me all this stuff in your own time, so I didn’t bring it up. I hope that was the right thing to do.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol said. “I think I understand.”

“Are you mad..?” Baekhyun asked, chewing his lip again.

“No, of course not.” Chanyeol shook his head. “I thought _you’d_ be mad that I didn’t tell you for so long, but I knew you’d find out eventually, because it’s kind of hard to hide. It's just that… I don’t want to be defined by stuff like that.” He paused for a moment, swallowing his inhibitions. It was too late to hide now; the door was already flung wide open. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

Baekhyun frowned. “Why would I do that..?”

“Because everyone else does. I feel like I can’t even tell the people who come to me for help. _I’m_ supposed to be helping other people, but how can I do that when I’m like this?” Chanyeol sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. I don’t want to dump all of this on you. I know you have your own shit to deal with.”

“It's okay, really. I know you’re frustrated,” Baekhyun said softly; he was stroking the back of Chanyeol’s hand, and Chanyeol almost laughed because he felt like he was the one seeing a therapist for once.

“Your students all know you're unwell, don't they?” he asked. “What do they think about it?”

Baekhyun nodded. “They do know… on a bad day, there's no hiding what I have either. And when people ask about it, I tell them. But for the most part, they don’t treat me any differently. I’m still able to yell instructions and encouragement at them from a chair at the front of the room, even when I’m at my worst.” He looked Chanyeol in the eye and smiled. “The only thing is, I don’t think I’ve really been at my worst yet. But that’s something I try not to think about.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol whispered.

Baekhyun said nothing, just kept stroking Chanyeol’s hand. “When I told you I had MS, did you look at me differently..?” he asked softly.

Chanyeol thought about it for a moment. “Well…no. I admired you even more, actually.”

“So? I’m the last person who would look at _you_ differently for something like that.” Baekhyun turned his head to the side, looking past Chanyeol at the mirrored wall behind him. “But I do know what it's like, you know; you want people to see past all that stuff, but at the same time, you don't want them to look right through you. And it's one or the other, isn't it? People like us, we're sick, but we're not sick enough. If you're chronically ill, then you _must_ be hospital-bound — extra points if you’re terminal. If you're physically disabled in some way, then you _must_ get around on wheels, or with a cane, or some other aid all of the time… otherwise it doesn't count. And who even makes these rules? The ones who aren’t sick or disabled, of course.” He sighed and said, “meanwhile, those who inhabit the grey areas, people like you and I, we just fade into background… nobody sees or cares. And I know I don't need to tell you how it feels when someone who probably has a healthy, functioning body sees that you’re parked in a disabled car space, with a permit clearly displayed in your vehicle, and then asks you where your wheelchair is. I can tell that you already know what that sort of thing feels like; people questioning your condition, just because you can’t always see it from the outside.”

Chanyeol just nodded in silence. He _did_ know what that felt like, and had long since given up on trying to explain to other people just how mind-numbingly exhausted he was all the time. _Everyone gets tired,_ people always said to him, _we know how you feel._ And his response to them was always the same: _no, you don’t. You really don’t, and I hope you never do._

“When we first started getting to know each other, I knew I liked you right from the start,” Baekhyun said. He smiled at Chanyeol shyly, and then looked away. “But I wanted us to start a friendship based on something positive; so I was really happy to see you enjoyed dancing so much, because it meant we could bond over something we both loved, instead of being two unwell people bonding through commiseration, making jokes about our bodies constantly letting us down and all that crap. But I don’t want you to think I avoided asking about you because I don’t care… I care about you a lot. I just wanted you to make that call on your own.”

Chanyeol sighed. “Well, I guess it’s a relief that it’s all out in the open now,” he said. “Like a huge weight off my shoulders. Did I at least hide it well..?”

Baekhyun just laughed and shook his head. “Not particularly. A few times you nodded off mid-conversation, and then you’d wake up again like it never happened. Sometimes I wonder if you even realise it’s happening in the first place.”

Chanyeol groaned and covered his face with his hands. “God… of course.”

“But if I hadn’t known from the start, maybe I’d have noticed it less,” Baekhyun said thoughtfully. “I was looking for signs I already knew existed.” He got to his feet, stretching his arms up above his head. “So… should we try it again together one more time, or have you had enough?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I guess we could give it another go.”

“Are you sure you aren’t too tired? I don’t want to force you.”

“Yeah, I’m tired,” Chanyeol sighed. “And the Pope is a Catholic and bears shit in the woods. So what?”

Baekhyun laughed at that. “Point taken.” He held out a hand for Chanyeol to grab on to, helping him to his feet again. “Don’t worry, you can lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

“If I do, I’m taking you down with me,” Chanyeol muttered, but Baekhyun just laughed at him again.

“I think I can handle it. Don’t let go of my hand, okay?” He was quiet for a few minutes while they danced, and then he said, “for the record, I still want to dance with you. None of this changes that. Maybe we’ll just have to be a bit more careful about it.”

They fell into silence again, and Chanyeol didn’t know where to look. Now that everything was out in the open, it made him feel somehow more susceptible, as though he might drop to the floor again at any second. Maybe that was the power of denial; it had been enough to keep him awake and on his feet until now, but without it, all he had left was the strength of his will.

“You know, after the first few classes, I wasn’t convinced you’d stick it out this long.” Baekhyun twirled away from Chanyeol, and when he came back in again, he was smiling. “But I’m glad you proved me wrong. What made you keep coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol said. “I just really enjoy dancing. I don’t know what it is about it, exactly, but whenever I’m _not_ doing it, I spend all my time looking forward to it. I haven’t spent this much time on something since I discovered music.”

“I have a theory; I think it’s because you're nostalgic, like me.” Baekhyun looked into Chanyeol’s eyes and smiled again. “You long for the simplicity of a more innocent time… holding hands on the dance floor instead of the bump n' grind. Am I close?”

 _You’re very close,_ Chanyeol thought. He could feel the warmth of Baekhyun’s body, the rise and fall of every breath. _Maybe a bit too close._ “I dunno. I do think grinding has its place.”

Baekhyun laughed. “I do too. But I think I like it better like this.”

“Why did _you_ start dancing, anyway?” Chanyeol asked.

“I started because, at the time, I wanted to meet girls.” Baekhyun laughed at the look on Chanyeol’s face when he said this. “I kept doing it because I have a hopeless competitive streak… and also I’m a romantic and I can't help myself. It's a very honest form of self-expression, I think. The body never lies.”

Chanyeol silently agreed with him; the body never lied, and that was the problem. He already had no control over his body as it was, and being near Baekhyun only made it worse. But the bigger problem was that he couldn’t keep himself away, even if he tried.

“What’s that look, huh? Do you wanna kiss me or something?” Baekhyun’s voice was soft, and his mouth was so close now that Chanyeol could feel warm breath on his lips.

“I want to kiss you so bad," Chanyeol whispered, before he could stop himself; he was thinking about moving in for the kill, his eyes closing of their own accord, when Baekhyun jerked his head away.

“Then my work here is done,” he said, chuckling softly. “Good job, wallflower — that's what we call ‘chemistry’.” He gave Chanyeol a playful punch on the shoulder, killing the mood stone dead. “Should we finish up for the night?”

“I guess,” Chanyeol said with a shrug.

“You want to have dinner?” Baekhyun winked at him. “I know a good place.”

Chanyeol smiled. “Always.”

 

 

 

 

***

While they were eating — at a little Thai place this time, so small it only had five tables inside — Baekhyun said, “so do they know what causes it? Your narcolepsy, I mean.”

Chanyeol pushed his food around on his plate, separating all the bits he didn’t want to eat from the ones he did. “No one really knows; often there’s a genetic link, but sometimes it just happens. I was told it could even be a freak reaction to a flu shot I had in high school. Back then I just thought I was tired a lot… I was studying my arse off, and probably not sleeping enough. But then it got worse and worse over time.”

Baekhyun nodded. “Sounds familiar… I was already feeling strange for a couple of years before it occurred to me that something might be wrong. It was only when it got worse that I looked into it. Now I’ll go to the doctor even if I notice the slightest change; it makes you kind of paranoid, doesn’t it..?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said quietly. “Well, when I was diagnosed, the clincher was the cataplexy — that’s where I go all floppy and fall over. Except in rare cases, it only happens to people with narcolepsy. But it happens when I'm stressed, happy, sad, angry… any emotion can set it off, and it seems to be the worst when I laugh. If it’s mild, I might just buckle at the knees for a moment, but if it’s a full-blown attack I’ll end up on the floor. Even when I wake up, I’ll be paralysed for a while until my body remembers how to make the distinction between being asleep and being awake. I also have very vivid, sometimes terrifying hallucinations, which are an awful thing to go through when you’re paralysed. It’s like the paralysis that happens when you’re asleep, so your body can’t act out your dreams; somehow the brain confuses experiencing emotion with being in the R.E.M. stage of the sleep cycle.”

Baekhyun listened patiently all through Chanyeol’s explanation, nodding every now and then to show that he understood. “Fucking hell,” he whispered. “And there’s no cure.”

“No cure,” Chanyeol said, shaking his head. He was quiet for a moment, and then added, “I suppose there are worse life sentences.”

“So what can you do about it?” Baekhyun asked.

“Not a lot.” Chanyeol shrugged. “Being on medication helps somewhat, but I can’t do a lot of the things I used to do. I don’t trust myself to drive anymore, or go swimming, or go for runs… even walking around a lot can be a problem. I don’t get out as often as I used to, and I try not to feel stuff too much.”

Baekhyun frowned; three little creases appeared between his brows whenever he did so, like tiny dimples. “That doesn’t sound like a very fulfilling life.”

“I know,” Chanyeol sighed; he leaned forward with his head in his hands, staring into his half-eaten dish of red curry. “It just seems kind of necessary,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry, but I’m not like you… I’m not good at looking for silver linings, or seeing the humour in my situation. I haven’t really learned how to do that yet. And maybe this is a terrible thing to say, but I really envy you that. I wish I could do it too.”

To Chanyeol’s surprise, Baekhyun laughed. “Oh, Chanyeol… you’ll learn.” He put a hand on Chanyeol’s arm, rubbing it gently. “You’ll learn to laugh about it, I promise. Sometimes it’s kind of all you can do.”

“Do you consider yourself disabled?” Chanyeol asked, looking up at him.

Baekhyun shrugged. “Yeah… I consider myself part-time disabled. Do you?”

Chanyeol thought about it for a moment. “I consider myself full-time inconvenienced.”

Baekhyun grinned at him. “I like that.” He leaned back in his seat, let out a long sigh and said, “I’m going to tell you some stuff I’ve learned over the years, ever since I became unwell.” He stopped for a moment to think, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I know there’s probably a part of you that’s grieving, trying to cling desperately to the person you were before… I get it. I felt that way for a long time, too. But you’re not that person anymore; being like this changes who you are, whether you want it to or not. And there are always going to be people out there who will try to make you feel better about it, telling you it's not so bad, this ‘thing’ you have — because you're not dying, are you? All you do is fall asleep in some weird places, right? What a funny ‘quirk’.” He paused again, letting out a bitter little snort. “Maybe people even try to give you unsolicited advice, just to tick off their good little deed for the day; but it doesn’t matter if it’s done with good intentions or not, because deep down you know they can't see what you're _really_ going through… how frightening and lonely it is to be trapped inside a body that feels like it doesn’t belong to you anymore. Well, you might have this disorder now, but you're still mostly functioning, still capable, still ‘the same old you’, right? You're still a normal person, that's what they'll try to make you believe — that you can do anything you set your mind to, just as you could before. I know this because I’ve heard it all a million times myself, and I’m sure you have too.”

Chanyeol nodded, swallowing a mouthful of curry. “I swear, if one more person tells me I can cure myself by eliminating gluten from my diet, I am going to fall asleep on top of them and break every bone in their body.”

Baekhyun laughed at that, but then he was serious again. “I’m here to tell you the truth, Chanyeol,” he said quietly, taking Chanyeol’s hand in his own. He looked down at the hand, stroking the back of it with his fingers, tracing over each of Chanyeol’s knuckles. “You’re going to be the way you are now for the rest of your life. And you can learn to live the best you can anyway… or not, the choice is yours. But take it from someone who’s in similar shoes: it’ll only make the downhill slide that little bit easier if you do.”

Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun for a long time. “This is a terribly depressing conversation,” he said at last. “I came out tonight because I wanted to eat Thai food, and maybe play a bit of footsie under the table, and I am honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

Baekhyun chuckled softly. “And you say you can’t see the humour in your situation,” he replied, smiling.

 

 

 

 

_viii._

“Chanyeol, are you in love?”

Chanyeol looked up from his guitar, wide-eyed, at the group of children sitting on the row of brightly-coloured plastic chairs in front of him. “Whatever gave you that idea..?”

Jenny looked a little uncomfortable; she tugged at the edges of her pink beanie, pulling it down over her head. “We’ve been playing and listening to a lot of love songs lately, that’s all.”

“She’s right — we have,” Sehun said, “and it’s yuck.” He pretended to stick his finger down his throat, making obnoxious puking noises. Chanyeol smiled; if he _was_ playing more love songs lately, then he hadn’t noticed, but love could be sneaky that way. He was happy to see that most of the regulars were here today; there were a few others who were confined to their beds, and he would visit them individually after the group session was over. He was looking forward to it already — the smiles on their faces when they saw him walk through the door, carrying his special guitar with the Disney character stickers all over it.

“Well, should we get started, then?” he said brightly. “I don’t think anyone else will be joining us today, will they Victoria…?” He looked at the supervising nurse expectantly, but she shook her head.

Jenny was persistent. “Are you _sure_ you don’t have a new girlfriend? You can tell us, you know. We won’t make fun of you.”

“No, I don’t have a new girlfriend, Jenny — or an old one, for that matter.” Chanyeol smiled and shook his head. “If I ever do get one, you’ll be the first to know about it.”

“You should go out with Jessica,” Elisa piped up, “I think she’s single at the moment. I heard her talking about it to one of the other nurses in the hallway.”

Victoria let out a snort of laughter from her seat in the back, and then she was quiet.

“Alright, that’s enough… no more trying to set me up with the hospital staff,” Chanyeol said, trying his hardest not to laugh too — having a sleep attack in front of the kids was never a good idea. They all knew he had a condition, but it still freaked some of them out. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, strumming his guitar. “So here’s an idea: why don’t we get back to the music? You’ve only got me until midday... better make use of my considerable talent and expertise while I’m here.” He smiled, plucking at the strings with his fingers. “Why don’t I play something, and then we can all sing together? No love songs this time, I promise.” He winked at Sehun as he said this.

“Play _‘Let It Go'_!" Maisie said, shaking her tambourine excitedly.

“No!” Sehun yelled, “no more Frozen songs!”

“How about something from _Beauty and the Beast_?” Chanyeol said. “That’s the new in-thing now, isn’t it? I wouldn’t know, I’m old… you’re all supposed to keep me informed.”

They ended up having a Disney sing-along that morning — much to Sehun’s dismay, although he still joined in towards the end. After the session was over, Chanyeol beckoned Victoria over to the front of the room while he was packing up. Lowering his voice, he asked, “where's Johnny today? And Karla.” It was a question he always hated asking, but it was better to know than have it hanging over his head.

“Too ill to attend this time,” Victoria said quietly. “Karla just started another round of chemo, so she’s feeling especially bad today. She was very disappointed that she couldn’t make it.”

“Oh… I see.” Chanyeol sighed. “Well, that's a shame. Still, not a bad turn-out.” He smiled and took the maracas Victoria was holding, putting them into the box with the rest of the percussion instruments. “Okay, I’ll let you go. I just wanted to make sure they were alright.”

Victoria returned the smile, nodded and went back to herding the kids out of the recreation room. Before she could get them all through the door, Jenny hurried over to Chanyeol and said, “Chanyeol, can I ask you something..?”

“Come on, Jenny,” Victoria said, “Chanyeol’s busy. He has to go see some other people now.”

“No, it's alright... of course you can ask me something, Jenny.” Chanyeol stopped packing up so he could give her his full attention. “What’s up?”

“Why don’t you come here as much anymore?” Jenny asked. She looked a tiny bit hurt, and Chanyeol sighed and rubbed his forehead; he had a feeling this was going to come up at some point.

“There are some other people asking for my help now, too,” he said gently. “I _want_ to be here more often, but I don’t always get what I want.”

“I just wish we got to see you more, that’s all,” Jenny said. Chanyeol put down the tambourine he was holding on the table next to him, and bent down a little to look her in the eye.

Well, you know what? I wish you wouldn’t have to see me at all,” he said. “And it’s not because I don’t like you guys; it’s because I really want you all to get better, so you can go play your own music at home.”

Jenny looked back at Chanyeol, unblinking and earnest. “Alright,” she said, with a little nod. “Thank you for coming today.” She threw her arms around his waist then, and Chanyeol stiffened a little — he wasn’t supposed to encourage physical contact — but he let her hug him for a moment, giving her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “You’re welcome, sweetheart... I’ll see you on Friday. Loving the headwear, by the way.”

Jenny smiled shyly back at him before she took Victoria's hand and left the room. Chanyeol watched her go, then sighed and went back to packing away all the instruments. He loved the kids he worked with at the hospital — even the little shits like Sehun — but he always dreaded the moment just before arriving at one of their sessions, walking into the recreation room to find that maybe the head count was smaller than the time before; that perhaps one of them had suddenly become gravely ill, or worse. The hardest part, by far, was not waving goodbye to the lucky few who became well enough to go back home to their families, but knowing that the rest of them would never walk out of there at all.

This thought left him in a sombre mood for the rest of the day, but he cheered up a little at the thought of getting to see Baekhyun for their rehearsal that night. They were seeing each other more, now; not just after their usual classes, but a few other times during the week as well. It had been Baekhyun’s idea that they should spend more time practicing, and Chanyeol wasn’t against it; if anything, he was overjoyed to have a reason to spend more time in Baekhyun’s company.

Baekhyun ran a class for advanced students on Wednesday nights, and Chanyeol planned to meet him afterwards so they could make use of one of the empty rooms to practice in. He could tell as soon as he arrived that Baekhyun wasn’t himself. Chanyeol had never seen him in a bad mood before; usually he was cheerful, and even on days when he wasn't feeling the best, he still retained something of a sense of humour. Sometimes he got a little snippy when they danced, if Chanyeol wasn't giving the steps his full attention; but Chanyeol had never seen him the way he was now — quietly morose, barely making eye contact. It was obvious that something was wrong.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his brow furrowing at the look on Baekhyun’s face. “You seem out of sorts.”

It took a while for Baekhyun to even look at Chanyeol, let alone reply. “It's my wife's birthday today,” he said at last, in a voice so flat and quiet that Chanyeol barely heard him. He had something in his hand, and Chanyeol realised it was his wedding ring; he'd taken it off and was rolling it around in his palm. He stared at it for a moment in silence before sliding it back on to his ring finger.

“Oh.” Now Chanyeol felt bad for asking. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t… how could you have known?” Baekhyun rubbed at the stud in his nose, which he often did when he was preoccupied or nervous. Then he opened his mouth to speak, paused for a second or two, and said, “if I were to tell you that I felt responsible for her death, what would you say?”

Chanyeol blinked at him. “Um, I’d probably say 'do you want to talk about it’..?”

Baekhyun smiled with one side of his mouth; it wasn't much, but it was encouraging. “Are you sure you want to open that Pandora's box of secrets?”

“You don't really seem to be the murderous type.” Chanyeol meant this in all seriousness, but Baekhyun just laughed, if a little bitterly.

"Well, she _was_ murdered, as a matter of fact,” he said. “But not by me.”

“You know, you don't have to talk about it if it's too hard,” Chanyeol said quietly. “I don't want you to relive the trauma unnecessarily.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “No, I _want_ to tell you. It's so rare for me to find people I actually feel like I can talk to. Who I feel won't judge me for the role I played in the situation.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol pulled a chair over to sit next to Baekhyun and made himself comfortable, crossing his ankles in front of him. “Well, take your time.”

Baekhyun sat there for a while, silent and thoughtful, swinging his legs against his chair. He looked at the floor instead of at Chanyeol. “I’d have never laid a hand on her in a million years,” he said, when he finally spoke. “But that's just it, I guess — I never laid _any_ hand on her. I think she craved intimacy, something I wasn't in the right frame of mind to give her at the time; and so she sought it elsewhere, from someone who wasn't me.” He scratched at his nose stud again, and then he finally met Chanyeol’s gaze. “I did love her, just… maybe not in the way she needed me to. I wasn’t there for her… physically present, yes, but emotionally absent. And I was struggling with being unwell, and sort of coming to terms with my sexuality at the time, which didn’t really help.”

“Did you ever tell her any of these things?” Chanyeol asked.

“She knew I was attracted to both men and women,” Baekhyun said. “I never hid that from her, and she never seemed bothered by it. But it didn't occur to me until after we'd married that maybe I preferred men. I didn't know how to tell her that, so... I didn't tell her at all. I was still attracted to her, so I didn't think it really mattered.” He leaned forward, burying his head in his hands. “I don’t know… we married young, which didn’t help. I was still very immature. I knew she really loved me, but I wasn't ready to be loved like that; I wasn't open to it. I was too hard on myself.”

“Do you want it now?" Chanyeol asked. “To be loved.”

Baekhyun lifted his head. “I’m not sure,” he said quietly, but the way his eyes flickered away suggested otherwise.

Chanyeol nodded and was quiet, unsure of what to say. Then Baekhyun continued without any prompting.

“I was too wrapped up in myself, and the thought of winning all the time. Winning, winning, winning… that’s what it was all about for me,” he said. “We competed together as teenagers, and we were good — we won first place together a couple of times — but it soon occurred to me that she didn’t have the same drive I had. She liked dancing for the _right_ reasons — because it was fun and brought us closer — but I just wanted to win. So eventually she lost interest and decided to retire, while I kept training and competing in my own time. I started competing with a new partner; I was never unfaithful or anything, but I think that sparked a bit of jealousy in her, knowing I was getting up close and personal with another woman she didn’t know a thing about. Without dancing to bring us together, we found we didn’t have a whole lot in common anymore; there wasn’t a reason to spend a lot of time with each other. There wasn’t that tension, that dynamic that dancing together created — the fireworks. We lost that one thing that we didn’t realise was keeping us together.”

Baekhyun stared at his ring, and began twisting it around his finger again. “So anyway, around the time I found out about the MS, she started seeing another man behind my back — a colleague from her office. I’m still not entirely sure what happened, and I suppose I’ll never know. _His_ side of the story was that she went to break it off with him, and then he flew into a rage because of it. Not pre-meditated — a supposed ‘crime of passion’. Whatever the reason, he beat her to a pulp, panicked, and then stabbed her 25 times with a pocket knife. I remember the exact number because I was so horrified by it, but also because that’s the age we were at the time, she and I — both 25.” Baekhyun paused for a moment and swallowed. “I don’t know why he felt the need to do it that many times, when once or twice probably would have done the job. The next day, he turned himself in.”

“God,” Chanyeol whispered. “That’s horrible.”

Baekhyun nodded. “Yep. So a while ago, I planned to visit the guy in prison, because I wanted some answers to questions that were bothering me… he’d been in there maybe a little over a year at that time. I tried to make arrangements for the visit, and was told that they'd found him dead only a few days before — hanged himself from the light fixture in his cell, using his own underwear. I mean, of course he did.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I wasn't planning to go there and hurl abuse at him… what good would that do? It wouldn’t bring her back. I didn't even want to ask him _why_ he did it. The thing is, before we started drifting apart, she used to come home and tell me all about her day. At first I found it comforting, but eventually they became mundane things I had little interest in, like whatever her co-workers talked about, and what she ate for lunch, things like that. And I'd just nod and smile because I had other stuff on my mind: work, and dancing... and the fact that my body and my sense of self and my whole life as I knew it were all about to change, and how unprepared I was for that. Then she started seeing him, and she stopped telling me all those things about how her day went and so on.” Baekhyun was quiet for a moment, and then he looked up at Chanyeol with moist eyes. “And so that was why I wanted to visit him; so I could ask if she'd perhaps told _him_ anything during those days she spent with him, which would end up being her last days. What silly stories a co-worker might've told her, and what she'd had for lunch, and if she'd enjoyed it. That was all I wanted to know.”

Chanyeol opened his mouth to finally speak, but nothing came out.

“I’m sorry.” Baekhyun reached over to grab Chanyeol’s hand, holding it tight. “I shouldn’t be talking about depressing stuff like this… life’s hard enough as it is.”

“Actually, I feel privileged that you told me,” Chanyeol said quietly, looking down at their joined hands. “I’m sure it was very hard for you to say.”

Baekhyun smiled. “It was. But you're surprisingly easy to talk to, so… it evens out nicely.” He was quiet for a while then, but he kept holding Chanyeol’s hand, and now he was stroking the back of it — as though Chanyeol were the one who needed to be comforted, and not him.

“Maybe she had a great last day," Chanyeol said, breaking the silence. “Maybe she had her favourite food for lunch and it was delicious. She’d been thinking about you a lot, and so she decided she was going to break it off with that guy and make up with you, because she realised what you had together was worth saving.”

Baekhyun smiled, but his eyes looked sad. “If only that were true.”

“It might be,” Chanyeol said. “How would we know?”

“How would we know indeed," Baekhyun said quietly. “I suppose I'll never know."

Chanyeol let go of Baekhyun’s hand, stood up from his seat and walked over to the piano. A few of the rooms at LSD had pianos, which were used to accompany some of the classes; Chanyeol had never played one of them before, but now seemed like a good opportunity. He sat down in front of the instrument, lifted the cover and ran his fingers over the keys. It was an old piano, but beautiful and well-kept. “Come over here,” he said to Baekhyun, patting the bench next to him. “Come sit down with me for a bit.”

Baekhyun walked over and sat down next to him, without speaking. Chanyeol began playing a little tune, making it up as he went along. “Ever since I could remember, I couldn’t be kept away from music,” he said, smiling to himself. “I loved it… but my parents didn't really care for it. They couldn’t see what the fuss was about. They bought me a recorder when I was seven because it wasn’t much of an investment, more like a toy than an instrument, and they paid for a few lessons to keep me quiet. I suppose they thought I'd grow out of it eventually. I learned to play _‘Annie's Song’_ , one of the ten songs in my little song book, and I walked around the house playing it over and over, until one morning my dad had enough, and ‘accidentally’ ran over the recorder with his car. When this had no effect whatsoever, he threw it in the bin. Then the next day he felt bad about it, and he went out and bought me another one.” Chanyeol smiled again when Baekhyun laughed at this last part. “So a little later, I learned to play _‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’_ for my first performance at a school recital, but I got up there and choked — I just kept playing the first line over and over and over, stumbling on a note and going back to the beginning, until my music teacher came to gently remove me from the stage. Then I moved on to the piano, which was better for my stage fright because I could sort of hide behind it. From there I discovered the guitar, and then the drums, and I fell in love and I haven’t looked back.”

When Chanyeol finally looked at Baekhyun again, he was smiling — a real smile this time, one of those smiles that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Sounds a bit like my relationship with dancing.”

“Maybe you should give music another go,” Chanyeol said. “You'd be surprised at how therapeutic it can be. And I’m not saying that as a music therapist, but as someone who has personally benefited from that therapy.”

“Are you telling me I need therapy, Chanyeol?” Chanyeol could hear the smile in Baekhyun’s voice.

“I think we all need therapy sometimes,” Chanyeol said quietly. “In our own ways.”

“What makes you think I need it? I’m not disagreeing with you, necessarily. I’m just curious.”

“Well, this is just a stab in the dark… but let’s just say that perhaps you feel frustrated sometimes, because your body can’t always move to a rhythm in the same way it once did,” Chanyeol said. “But you can respond to rhythm in different ways. Maybe dancing is harder now that you’re going through these physical changes, but what about playing an instrument? Have you ever thought about taking up the piano again, or learning to play something else?”

“I had piano lessons until I was fifteen,” Baekhyun said. “And then I gave it up. I don’t think I remember anything now.”

“Maybe you should try. I’m sure something will come back to you. It’s partly muscle memory, anyway.”

“We can swap therapy techniques,” Baekhyun said, smiling. “I’ll teach you how to dance out all your frustrations, if you like.”

Chanyeol smiled back at him. “I’d be dancing all the time then, I'm afraid.”

“Always frustrated, huh,” Baekhyun said, laughing softly. “By what?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I dunno. My growing inability to do certain things, I guess. Things I once found easy.”

Baekhyun was quiet for a moment. “Then why not worry about the things you can still do?”

Chanyeol didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“Have you ever seen that scene in the film _Billy Elliot_ where he kicks down the outhouse door and then dances angrily into the street?” Baekhyun’s eyes rolled back into his head, and Chanyeol couldn’t help smiling at what a drama queen he was. “It’s pure gold… you have to watch it.”

“Do you find that ballroom dancing helps you?” Chanyeol asked; he was still playing a random little tune, not really going anywhere, but just enjoying it for what it was. “That keeping to a rhythm and moving constantly helps prepare your mind and body for those times when you’re relapsing?”

“It does,” Baekhyun said. “In a way, I can’t help doing it. The body is inherently musical, I think... isn’t everything dictated by the beat of the heart?”

“Yes, I think so.” Chanyeol smiled. He played around a bit more, and then said, “do you want to try playing something now..?”

Baekhyun looked doubtful. “I don’t know… like I said, it’s been a very long time.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Chanyeol moved over a little to give him more room. “Just give it a try — play anything you can remember. I’m not here to judge your technique.”

Baekhyun put his hands on the keys and let them rest there for a while. He stared at his hands in silence, and then, hesitantly, he began to play.

“Ah.” Chanyeol recognised the tune immediately. “Piano Sonata No. 14, or ‘The Moonlight Sonata’... an oldie but a goodie.”

Baekhyun kept playing, but then his fingers stumbled over the keys. “Oops,” he said, with an embarrassed little laugh. “My hands are really numb today.”

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol said quietly, “just take your time.” Baekhyun continued for a little longer before making another mistake, and then he stopped.

“Sorry,” he said, “it’s just really frustrating sometimes, not being able to feel anything..”

Without a word, Chanyeol took Baekhyun’s hand, lifted it to his lips and softly kissed the back of it. “Did you feel that?”

Baekhyun just looked at him with wide eyes. “Um, kind of,” he said, with a noticeable crack in his voice; there was something so satisfying about seeing his usual confidence crumble a bit, Chanyeol thought — satisfying and, at the same time, lovely.

“Here,” he whispered, “put your hand on top of mine.”

Baekhyun hesitated a little, but he complied. With one of Baekhyun’s hands on top of his, Chanyeol began to play again. “See? Now it’s like we’re both playing,” he said, smiling. “Well, sort of.”

“Aren’t I distracting you?” Baekhyun asked.

Chanyeol shook his head. “Not at all.” Falling asleep in the middle of playing, on the other hand… _that_ was a distraction. But right now he felt wide awake, and Baekhyun's hand was warm and soft on top of his, and he would make the most of this feeling while it lasted.

“I like this piece.” Baekhyun moved his hand away so Chanyeol could play more freely, and Chanyeol missed the warmth of it immediately. “It sounds familiar.”

“It’s called ‘Rondo in A Minor’ — by Mozart,” Chanyeol told him. “It’s one of my favourites… I play it nearly every day. Or I try to, anyway.”

“It's really nice.” Baekhyun was sitting so close that their legs and shoulders touched each other, and all Chanyeol had to do was turn his head, and then perhaps he could press his lips to the side of Baekhyun's neck and kiss him there, very softly, and see what might happen. But kissing his hand had already used up all the bravery Chanyeol had that day.

“Do you know why I love this piece so much?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“No. Why?” Baekhyun’s voice sounded far away, and Chanyeol wondered if the music was hypnotising him somehow.

“There’s just something very unassuming about it,” he said. “I think it’s meant to be understated, but to me that's the thing that makes it strike the heartstrings so hard. It doesn’t try to draw anything out of you... it just does. And it doesn’t feel as long as it is, either; maybe because so much is happening in that time. It's kind of quietly exciting.”

“I see what you mean,” Baekhyun said.

“Do you hear it?” Chanyeol whispered, lowering his voice at a particularly quiet part of the song. “How gentle it is... and yet sometimes it wants to be bold. How joyful it is at times, how sorrowful at others. I feel like I'm living an entire little lifetime whenever I sit down to play it.” Arriving at his favourite part, he closed his eyes; this was where the emotion always hit him the hardest, and it made him feel exhausted. He stopped for a second and let his chin touch his chest. Then he felt Baekhyun’s hand move to his back, resting warm upon his shoulder; he opened his eyes again, lifted his head and kept playing until the piece was done.

By the end of it, Baekhyun looked like he was about to cry, and Chanyeol grinned at him. “Aww, what’s wrong? Was I that bad?”

Baekhyun stared at him for a long, silent moment. He didn’t return the smile. “You fell asleep in the middle… I didn’t know whether to wake you or not. Then you woke up and just kept playing, and it was almost like time stood still or something.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol frowned. He remembered closing his eyes for a couple of seconds, but not falling asleep. “I didn’t realise it was that long. I thought I only closed my eyes.”

“You don’t notice when you fall asleep?”

“Not always. Although waking up on the floor is usually a pretty good indication.”

Baekhyun laughed softly. “Well, you played beautifully. And I feel like I was a part of something special, even though I didn’t contribute.”

“Of course you contributed,” Chanyeol said. “You listened. And you're welcome.”

Baekhyun tilted his head to one side and looked at Chanyeol for a while without speaking. “What are you doing tonight?”

Chanyeol shrugged. He mucked around on the piano for a little longer and then closed the cover. “Not much. Why?”

“Are you tired?” Baekhyun asked.

“Always,” Chanyeol said, “but right now, it’s bearable.”

A grin slowly grew on Baekhyun’s face. “Maybe this is a crazy idea, but how about a trip down memory lane?”

 

 

 

 

* * *

Chanyeol hadn’t been back to Starship since the night they met, and Baekhyun was surprised to learn about this. “I can’t believe you’ve only been there the one time!” he said in mock outrage, when they were waiting in line to be let in. “I’m complete trash for this place… I was here again twice last week.”

“Oh, I don't doubt it,” Chanyeol said drily. “I’m sure the bar staff all know you by name.” Baekhyun went over to the bar as soon as they were let in to buy them both a drink, and Chanyeol found out he had been entirely correct in this assumption.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re singlehandedly keeping them in business,” he said to Baekhyun as they made their way to the dance floor, and Baekhyun just rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway. He stood very close the whole time they were dancing, and as soon as their drinks were out of the way, he wrapped both of his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, holding him even closer. “Is this okay,” he asked, “or am I too close?”

“It’s fine. You’re not too close.”

Baekhyun laughed. “I don’t think I could even get any closer than this..”

“I don’t mind. You know I like dancing with you,” Chanyeol said, smiling at him. “Does this count as our practice for the day..?”

“Not really.” Baekhyun rested his head against Chanyeol’s shoulder for a moment. “I think I really needed this, though. Especially today.”

Sometimes the look in Baekhyun’s eyes while they danced made Chanyeol think he was going to kiss him, but he never did. Still, he wasn’t shy about touching. His hands were always somewhere on Chanyeol's body; usually either around Chanyeol’s neck, or at his waist, or on his lower back — almost on his bum, but not quite. They were all grey areas, toeing the line between friendly and intimate. For his part, Chanyeol kept his hands on Baekhyun's waist, just to be safe; but there was one moment when Baekhyun did a slow grind with his back to him that Chanyeol let one hand wander across to his stomach, his fingertips grazing the bare skin between Baekhyun's shirt and the waistband of his jeans, and the little shiver that moved through Baekhyun's body drove him just a tiny bit wild.

“Aren’t you supposed to be showing me how to dance out my frustrations?” Chanyeol said, yelling above the music; he _was_ a little frustrated now, for other reasons, but Baekhyun didn’t need to know about that.

“Sure — it’s easy.” Baekhyun lifted both arms above his head and turned around to face Chanyeol again, hypnotically rolling his hips in time with the beat. “Just go nuts… that’s all there is to it. Go to town and don’t look back.”

“Is that really all..?” Chanyeol grinned at him. “I thought there’d be a bit more to it than that.”

Baekhyun laughed and shook his head. “It’s really that simple. And don’t worry about what any of these people think; they all have their own problems.” He grabbed Chanyeol’s hand and spun him around, almost sending him to the floor, and it was all Chanyeol could do not to laugh. “Just throw your inhibitions out the window and let it all out. You’ll feel really good afterwards, I guarantee it.”

They danced together in the middle of the silly light-up dance floor, the crowd parting around them just as it had on the night they met. Baekhyun showed him how to do the Jive, and Chanyeol made a complete mess of it, but he was having so much fun that he didn’t care. Once again, he could sense everyone watching them, and when his eyes scanned the crowd, he could see he was right. Baekhyun seemed to have that effect on people, Chanyeol thought; he could walk around in the street without attracting too much attention, but all eyes were on him whenever he danced. When they both walked off the floor to the sound of cheers and whistles, the way Baekhyun seemed to glow with pleasure, the brightness of his smile and pure joy in his eyes, all made him even more beautiful than he already was.

Suddenly hit by a wave of fatigue, Chanyeol walked over to the side of the room to sit down, leaning his back against the wall. He had to close his eyes for a little while, and when Baekhyun sat down next to him, Chanyeol felt him holding his hand. He gave Baekhyun’s hand a little squeeze in acknowledgement, smiling when he felt Baekhyun squeeze back.

“Tired, huh?” Baekhyun whispered in his ear, when Chanyeol opened his eyes again. “Should we call it a night..?”

“I think so. I have work in the morning anyway.” Chanyeol yawned and turned his head to give Baekhyun a sleepy smile. “I had a lot of fun, though. I’m really glad we came.”

“Me too.” Baekhyun stood up first, and then he helped Chanyeol do the same. “Come on,” he said, with his arm warm around Chanyeol’s waist. “Let’s go.”

When they stepped outside the club and got their first lungfuls of fresh air, Chanyeol began to feel better. “I think I just needed some oxygen… it was so stuffy in there.” He kicked at the ground with his shoe and said, “you wanna go for a walk?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Sure,” he said, “I’m up for it.”

They walked along the road together, following it towards the centre of town; it wasn’t the shortest walk, but Chanyeol wasn’t ready to give up on Baekhyun’s company just yet, and Baekhyun himself didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Neither of them spoke much, but the silence wasn’t at all uncomfortable. Chanyeol let Baekhyun walk ahead of him for a minute, and then he called out to him. “Hey, wait a sec.”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun stopped and turned around, waiting for him to catch up. Chanyeol fell into step beside him, and the two of them walked in silence again for a little while.

“I know we’ve been hanging out a lot lately… and I was kind of wondering,” Chanyeol began, and then he paused for a moment, considering his words. “I was wondering if maybe we could go out sometime, outside of practicing. Like maybe we could see each other or something.”

Baekhyun stopped walking, looking over at Chanyeol with an expression of surprise, and burst out laughing.

“Okay,” Chanyeol said drily, “responds with laughter… probably not a good sign..”

Baekhyun shook his head. “You're really cute, you know that..?”

Chanyeol stared back at him blankly, waiting for the rest of it. “I’m really cute, _and_ …?”

“You didn't let me get to the ‘but’,” Baekhyun replied. “You're really cute, _but_ , I’m trying to keep our relationship ‘strictly ballroom’, so to speak.”

Chanyeol sighed. “Alright. You can just say it, you know… it's cool. I can deal with it.”

“Say what?" Baekhyun asked, frowning.

“That you're not into me like I’m into you. You have every right to feel that way. I won’t be offended.”

“It's not that.” Baekhyun waved a hand around, as though trying to swat the topic away. “Never mind… let's not get into all that messy feelings stuff right now.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol whispered, and they went back to walking. It was a balmy night, perfect for a nighttime stroll; the moon was bright and gibbous, the stars were all out to play, and Chanyeol briefly considered reaching out to hold Baekhyun’s hand again, inspired by the beauty of their surroundings, but as usual he decided against it.

“Tell me something,” Baekhyun said, breaking the silence. He stopped walking. “That wasn’t the reason you’ve been coming to my classes all this time, is it? Because you wanted to ask me out.”

“No,” Chanyeol replied, without missing a beat, and he was surprised to realise that he meant it. Maybe the promise of winning Baekhyun over _had_ drawn him there initially, but he kept coming to the lessons because he actually loved to dance. Everything seemed better now that he had discovered the new love of his life; he was having fewer sleep attacks during the day, and sleeping better at night. He had something to look forward to after work was over, and he was even starting to lose some of the weight he’d put on recently. And the fact that Baekhyun was smoking hot and liked dancing with him obviously didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t his main motivation. “I mean, I think you’re beautiful in every way possible, and I’m very attracted to you,” he said. “I can’t lie about that. But that’s not the reason I show up. I keep coming because I want to dance, and because I really like dancing with you.”

Baekhyun was quiet while he digested this. No cars went past for a minute or two, and in the silence that followed there was only the roar of the ocean in the distance. “Good,” he said at last, with a satisfied little nod. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Chanyeol smiled at him. “You think I'm cute too, though… you already admitted it. You can’t take it back.”

Baekhyun laughed. “I suppose I do,” he said. “I’m sure my little crush on you is painfully obvious by now; I’m just not ready to date, that’s all. I know it sounds like an excuse, but I’m not sure I have the energy for it at the moment, either mentally or physically. I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh, I get it… believe me.” It wasn’t a flat-out rejection, so Chanyeol didn’t feel particularly disheartened. “Just so you know, though, I'm probably going to have another crack at asking you out later. Until then, you'll have time to come up with some creative new ways to turn me down.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Baekhyun said, his eyes crinkling again. “Who knows, maybe next time I won’t have to turn you down at all.”

Chanyeol just nodded, and smiled shyly at the stars on his shoes. They were nowhere near as bright as the ones in Baekhyun’s eyes. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Baekhyun saw where he was looking and let out a little snort of laughter. “Those shoes again, huh.”

“They're my lucky shoes,” Chanyeol said, grinning at him. “They’re one of the first things you ever complimented me on. And now I feel like I can’t dance without them.”

“And when you eventually stop wearing them, will your luck run out?” Baekhyun was grinning back at him, but then his smile softened a little. “Will you have to stop dancing..?”

“Well, in public, maybe,” Chanyeol said thoughtfully. “I’d probably still do it alone in my apartment.”

Baekhyun laughed. “You're a bit weird, you know, but I really like it.”

Chanyeol raised both eyebrows. “You do..?”

“Don’t look so put out — it’s a compliment, for sure,” Baekhyun said. When Chanyeol didn’t look convinced, he added, “these days, everyone's 'weird'. Geeks are chic, oddity and eccentricity are in vogue… and then you come across a truly weird person — someone who doesn't try to be weird to appear more interesting than they really are, but just is — and it's much more special. Like finding a love letter in the pocket of some old coat you bought in a thrift shop… that kind of feeling. I really like people like that. I like finding a little bit of magic in the ordinary.”

“You think I’m magic?” Chanyeol asked, shooting Baekhyun an amused look, but on the inside he was about to keel over from happiness. “Can’t say anyone’s ever called me that before.”

“Well, you’re definitely something,” Baekhyun said, and if Chanyeol wasn’t mistaken, he even leaned towards him a fraction. “And I’m having a lot of fun trying to figure out what that something is.”

“I found fifty bucks in the back pocket of some second-hand Levi’s once,” Chanyeol said, and Baekhyun laughed again.

“You really are lucky, aren't you?” he said.

Chanyeol smiled. “I guess I am.”

“Well, on that note,” Baekhyun said, smiling back at him, but he didn’t say anything more, just turned around and started to walk away.

“Can I walk you home?” Chanyeol called out, and Baekhyun stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at him again.

“There’s this part in _Saturday Night Fever_ where Tony asks Stephanie the same question, and she walks away and yells back at him, _‘you shouldn’t’ve asked, you shoulda just done it’_.” He walked backwards for a couple of steps, his smile blinding even in the darkness. “If you really want to walk me home, then don’t ask, Chanyeol. Just do it.” He turned around and kept on walking. Chanyeol stood on the side of the road and watched him for a moment before hurrying along after him, unable to stop smiling for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

 

 

 

 

_ix._

Chanyeol was dancing so much now that when he took off his shoes at night, he would find blisters on his feet — little bubbles that wept and oozed and stuck to his socks. He went to bed with aching muscles, and his clothes were a bit looser than they were before, but he was always smiling. He couldn’t _see_ that he was always smiling, and it was so natural to him now that he barely noticed he was doing it, but he could tell because people he met with during the day — clients and music students, friends and colleagues alike — all asked him why he was always in such a cheery mood lately. Wanting to keep his reasons to himself, Chanyeol’s reply was always something along the lines of, “well, why not?”

Because dancing was such a huge part of his life now, he dreamed about it fairly often. Sometimes he dreamed about dancing with Baekhyun, sometimes he didn’t; but somehow he always felt Baekhyun’s presence, even if he couldn’t see his face. Nightmares still came, but they were fewer and farther between, outnumbered by the dreams, and Chanyeol found that waking up feeling happy for no particular reason wasn’t such a rare occurrence anymore.

Now that they were spending so much time together, his relationship with Baekhyun had evolved as well, in a number of ways. He was a little harder on Chanyeol than he’d been at the start: probably thought he could handle it, now that they were friends and had been dancing with each other for a while. Their practicing routine had since extended to weekends as well, whenever they both had time to spare, and the more they danced together, the harder the cane came down; not that Baekhyun ever _really_ hit Chanyeol with his cane, but there were a couple of times when he looked like he was considering it.

“Your grip's too loose,” he was saying now — he held Chanyeol's arm out, squeezing his hand to make a point. “Hold my hand tight, like this, and keep your back straight. And watch your other hand; don’t just let it flop down like a dead fish.”

If Chanyeol thought the criticism was over, he was dead wrong; Baekhyun kept the shots coming, firing them at him without hesitation, things like “if I had a dollar for each time you’ve stepped on my foot,” and “look at me like you’re in love with me, not like I'm going to bloody eat you!”

For Chanyeol, this last command, at least, was easier done than said.

“Good,” Baekhyun said, smiling at him — the first smile so far that day. He seemed to be in a bit of a prickly mood, and Chanyeol wondered if everything was alright. “Very convincing. Now, do you see all those mirrors on the walls?”

“Well, yeah,” Chanyeol muttered to himself, “there’s only about fifty of them..”

“Then why aren't you using them? That’s what they’re there for.”

Chanyeol didn't want to look in the mirrors. He didn't need yet another reminder of how graceful Baekhyun was when he danced, and how… non-graceful he himself was. “Do I have to..?”

Baekhyun let out a little frustrated puff of air. “You don't _have_ to do anything... but it's a good way to keep an eye on your technique. Try and identify where your movements might be a little sloppy.” He was silent for a while after saying this, focused on the routine, and Chanyeol thought he looked really sexy when he was concentrating.

 _You look really sexy when you're concentrating,_ he wanted to say, but didn’t. Now Baekhyun’s face was only centimetres away from his. Everything about him was so real and so close; his warm breath, his beating heart, the intense look in his eyes. His hand on Chanyeol's shoulder; the sounds of their feet sliding together across the floor. It was all too much.

“Now you look like you want to kiss me again, wallflower,” Baekhyun said, chuckling softly to himself. “Must be a better actor than I thought.”

“I don’t,” Chanyeol said — he wasn't falling for that a second time. “I’m just playing the part, that's all... keeping it ‘strictly ballroom’, as you said.”

Baekhyun had on his 'ideas' face again. “Let’s take it from the top,” he said, in a sly voice. “If you can take me through the whole routine without a single mistake, I'll reward you with a kiss.”

Chanyeol smiled. “And who said I wanted a kiss…?”

“Don't you?” Baekhyun raised an eyebrow at him, blew his hair out of his eyes and said, “alright then, suit yourself. I mean, I won't _force_ it on you or anything..”

“Okay yeah I want a kiss,” Chanyeol said, quickly changing his tune, “let's do it.” They went through their whole Foxtrot routine again, from beginning to end, and Chanyeol concentrated so hard on each step that he was left exhausted by the time they were done. As soon as it was over, Baekhyun reached up to put his hands on either side of Chanyeol’s face, looking into his eyes. “Are you ready for the best two seconds of your life?” he whispered, smiling up at him, and Chanyeol found he could barely breathe. He was afraid to open his mouth, worried his heart might fall out of it and onto the floor.

“Um, I guess,” he said. He'd wanted this so badly, but now that it was about to happen, what was the correct way to prepare for it? Should he shut his eyes? Keep his lips parted, or keep them soft but closed?

Still smiling, Baekhyun stood on his toes and popped a dry little peck on the side of Chanyeol’s face, putting an end to all these worrying little considerations. Chanyeol just blinked at him, trying to contain his outrage. “Is that it..?!”

“I said I'd reward you with a kiss,” Baekhyun said, trying to hold back his laughter at the look on Chanyeol’s face, and failing. “I never said _where_ the kiss was going to be.”

“Well, I still feel a tiny bit cheated.” Chanyeol couldn’t help pouting; but any kind of kiss from Baekhyun was something to rejoice over, and he ended up cracking a smile anyway. Even though it was only a peck on the cheek, it still left him with a pounding heart and a dry mouth, and concentrating on the steps for the rest of their practice session was even more challenging. “Sorry… I’m screwing up more than usual, aren’t I..?”

“You’re overthinking it, that’s all,” Baekhyun said. “Don’t overthink it.”

“Yeah? Well, how do I do that? Enlighten me, master,” Chanyeol replied, with a trace of sarcasm.

Baekhyun said nothing for a moment, his forehead creased in concentration. “What's your favourite TV show?”

“What’s that got to do with anything..?” Chanyeol asked, confused by the question.

“Oh, nothing, really; I just want to know. Do I need a reason to want to know more about you..?”

Chanyeol had never considered this before. “Well... I don’t really know. I hardly ever watch TV. I usually just fall asleep when I do.”

Baekhyun wasn't about to give up, by the sound of it. “Alright, fine,” he said, sounding a little exasperated. “Your favourite song, then.”

This was an even harder question, but Chanyeol responded with the first thing that came to mind. “‘Your Song’ by Elton John.”

“Good choice,” Baekhyun said. Barely a breath later — “if you could have dinner with any ten dead people, who would they be?”

“Seriously..?" Chanyeol groaned; dancing was hard enough without having to think at the same time. “Um, let's see... Mozart, for sure… and David Bowie. Jimi Hendrix. Prince. Marc Bolan… I don't bloody know, that's a really hard question.”

Baekhyun grinned at him. “See? You're doing it.”

Chanyeol was even more confused now. “Doing _what?_ ”

“You managed to answer every question I threw at you, and you kept dancing the step sequence at the same time, without making a single mistake.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol wasn’t expecting that. “Right.”

“Uh-huh… and all because you were distracted, so you couldn't overthink,” Baekhyun said. “Don't get me wrong, concentrating is good — it’s vital, in fact. But overthinking won't help you. Overthinking makes you hesitate, and there's no room for hesitation in something that relies so heavily on timing.”

“I guess I'll try not to overthink then.”

“Do it enough times and it becomes somewhat automatic, anyway.” Baekhyun was still smiling, as usual; Chanyeol wondered if his face ever felt sore. “You know, after what happened to Suzy, I felt for years that I needed to be alone… but doesn’t dancing like this just make you want to fall in love again?” Before Chanyeol could reply, he said, “alright, now let me down gently.”

At Baekhyun’s command, Chanyeol dipped him backwards. Their eyes met for a second, and then he looked away.

“No,” Baekhyun whispered harshly, “keep your eyes on mine. Never look away... looking away ‘breaks the spell’. You want to keep the magic alive, don’t you?”

When Chanyeol lifted him up again, their eyes were still locked on each other. Baekhyun said nothing; he just looked up at Chanyeol, smiled, and slowly licked his lips. And Chanyeol didn't know why — it wasn't like someone licking their lips could be considered a proper invitation to kiss them — but he leaned in and kissed Baekhyun anyway, very softly at first, and then when he felt him responding, a little more insistently.

“Chanyeol, I can’t…” Baekhyun whispered, mouthing the words against Chanyeol’s lips. He couldn’t, and yet he still was; he wasn’t pulling away. He seemed to melt in Chanyeol’s arms, his body growing soft and limp, and Chanyeol kissed him again, over and over, because Baekhyun was so beautiful and his lips felt wonderful and he couldn’t help it. He was about to pull back when he felt Baekhyun lift himself to his toes, and he pressed his warm body firmly against Chanyeol’s, wrapping both arms around his neck. His kiss was worlds away from that little peck on the cheek earlier, warm and wet and passionate, the tip of his tongue teasing Chanyeol’s in a silent invitation to come out and play. And Chanyeol loved the way Baekhyun smelled, and the way he tasted, and to pull himself away at last took far more willpower than he thought he’d ever have.

“I’m sorry... I shouldn't have done that,” he whispered, breathing so heavily he could hardly speak. He still had one hand on Baekhyun's face, and he let it linger for a while before moving it away. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, then I’ll stop.”

Baekhyun looked conflicted. “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he said quietly. “It’s just that I’m still a bit hung up at the moment.”

Right — of course he was still hung up on someone, Chanyeol thought… Suzy, probably. “Alright. I understand.”

Baekhyun tilted his head to the side and looked at Chanyeol with a soft smile on his face. “You know I like you, Chanyeol. I think maybe that's why I'm being so careful.”

Chanyeol nodded. “It's okay… thanks for being honest. And should you ever want to kiss again — um, as friends — then I’m totally up for it.”

Baekhyun laughed. “I’ll think about it,” he said, winking at Chanyeol. Another flirty look, and then he gave him a playful shove. “What do you say? Once more from the top?”

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol sighed. He walked over to one of the chairs against the wall and plopped down onto it, running his hands through his sweaty hair. “I think I’m getting a bit over it now.”

“Maybe we just need a change of scenery.” Baekhyun looked thoughtful, and then his eyes lit up. “Why don’t we go down to the beach?”

“Why the beach?” Chanyeol asked, but Baekhyun walked over, grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the door.

“Just come with me,” he said, and as usual, Chanyeol let him have his way. He never had it in him to refuse.

They caught the bus down to the beach, squashing in next to each other on one of the two-seaters; Baekhyun rested his hand in the gap between their legs, watching the multicoloured blur of passing suburbia through the window. The sun was only just beginning to set, the sky awash with pastel colours. Neither of them spoke for much of the ride, but when Chanyeol lightly traced over the top of Baekhyun’s hand with his fingers, he saw him smiling through his reflection in the glass. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Baekhyun in front of all these people; if he would let Chanyeol do it, or if he would turn his head, or push him away. Chanyeol was well and truly out, but he didn’t know if Baekhyun was. It didn’t seem like the right thing to ask.

While they were walking along the beach together, holding their shoes in their hands, Baekhyun turned to Chanyeol and said, “do you know why I come down here so often?”

Chanyeol squished his toes into the wet sand with every step, watching the footprints fill with water until they were licked smooth again by the waves. “To dance,” he said.

“Yes, but do you know _why_ I come here to dance?”

Chanyeol thought about it for a while, but he couldn’t think of a reason. “I dunno, 'cause you like being outdoors..?”

When Baekhyun spoke again, his voice was quiet. “I come here to dance because, if I have a fall, I’m less likely to hurt myself.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol said, just as quietly. “I see. But isn’t it harder to dance on the sand?”

“It _is_ more difficult than dancing on a wooden floor, yes… it’s harder on the legs, and therefore more tiring.” Baekhyun was quiet again for a moment. “But I like looking out at the ocean while I dance, instead of seeing endless versions of myself in a wall full of mirrors. Then I don’t have to be constantly reminded that I’m not what I used to be.”

“I come here to take walks for the same reason, you know,” Chanyeol said. “The not-hurting-myself-when-I-fall-over reason. Although one time I was walking too close to the shore, and I passed out right near the water.” He smiled. “Pretty silly, huh. Anyway, I almost drowned. Almost, but not quite.”

Baekhyun looked over at him, the worried look on his face relaxing into a soft smile. “Touched by an angel, it sounds like.”

“Well, she was human, actually.” Chanyeol stood on the shoreline staring at his toes; the water sloshing around his feet began to run backwards, being pulled in by the next wave. “A very pretty lady lifeguard. She even hit on me afterwards.”

“Ha! There’s a story for the grandkids.” Baekhyun walked ahead along the beach for a little while, then turned around to face Chanyeol, walking backwards for a few steps. “How about we dance right now?”

“Here?” Chanyeol stopped walking. The cool sea breeze had perked him up a bit, and he wasn’t feeling as tired as before. “Alright. Why not?” He soon lost track of how long they danced for, twirling each other around and laughing, losing their footing in the soft wet sand, but he was pleasantly surprised by how awake he felt — more and more awake the more they danced, when the opposite would have been expected. Maybe it was the freshness of the ocean air that did it; or maybe he just didn’t want to miss the way Baekhyun was looking at him —the same way he did just before they kissed. He didn’t want to miss it even for a second.

“Let’s keep walking,” Baekhyun said, when they were tired of dancing. He sounded puffed out. “Gotta make the most of my legs until they start hating me again.”

“How long does one of your relapses usually last?” Chanyeol asked him, and Baekhyun shrugged; he walked on ahead once more, a weaving, all-over-the-place sort of walk with his hands casually shoved into his pockets. Chanyeol couldn’t tell if the weaving was voluntary or not. “A week or two, usually, but it depends. Sometimes it’s shorter, sometimes it’s longer. I’m completely at the mercy of my unpredictable body… it operates by its own rules, on its own time.” Baekhyun smiled, turning his head back to look at Chanyeol, the breeze gently ruffling his hair. “If nothing good has come of this, it’s at least made me a far more patient person. I definitely wasn’t one before.” He turned his head to the side, looking out to sea, and then he reached out a hand to point at something.

“Hey. Look over there,” he said. “See those black-and-white things? Are those what I think they are..?”

Chanyeol stood facing the sea, squinting to see better. “They look like fairy penguins.” There were several of them, diving in and out of the water, probably looking for small fish.

“I’ve never seen any in the wild before,” Baekhyun said. “They’re so cute! I kinda want to cuddle one, but it would probably peck me to death.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help smiling. “Your reaction is way cuter, if you ask me.”

“Shut up,” Baekhyun said, but in a joking sort of way. “I want to take one home so bad… I’d call it Soo and feed it sardines. It’s just a shame I don’t have a bathtub to keep it in.”

“I didn’t even know you could find them this far north,” Chanyeol said. “I’ve never seen any around here, either. You do get the odd pod of dolphins, though.”

“It’s like… well, I don’t know,” Baekhyun whispered. “A good omen or something.”

Chanyeol turned his head to the side, shooting Baekhyun an amused look. “Fairy penguins are a good omen..?”

“I don’t know how to explain myself,” Baekhyun said. “I just know that people are always praying for signs and miracles, and then looking for them in the wrong places, and thinking they don’t happen. But strange, wonderful little things are happening all the time.” He looked out to sea for a while, the wind blowing his hair in all directions. “Let me ask you what’s the real miracle: both of us being relieved of our burdens tomorrow, and forgetting that we ever struggled, or anything important we might have learned from that struggle. Or, earning the strength to cope with all these things, and living a full and meaningful life despite them. There was a time when I would have answered differently, but I think I know how I’d respond now. Do you?”

Chanyeol looked back to where the penguins had been, and saw that they were gone. He smiled and said, “yes, I do.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

When Chanyeol got home, he conked out almost as soon as he walked into the living room, barely making it to the sofa. He was too exhausted even to eat. That night, Baekhyun was in his dreams again; he was walking along the rocky edges of the public swimming bath near the lifesaving club, both his arms stretched out like a tightrope walker's. For some reason, his hair was blue. Chanyeol sat on the edge of the bath with his feet in the water, watching him. The whole thing was so vivid that even after he woke up, he would be convinced for a while that it really happened.

“You won’t let me be, will you?” Dream Chanyeol said to Dream Baekhyun with a playful smile. “You want all my waking moments, and now you’re taking over all of my sleeping ones, too.”

Dream Baekhyun turned around to face him. “Next time you see me,” he said, “I think you should kiss me again.”

Chanyeol laughed; he could laugh in his dreams without consequence. “Oh, I should, should I..?”

“Yes.” Dream Baekhyun’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled — blue hair, blue eyes. Blue like the sea. He was so lovely when he smiled that it actually hurt to look at him, like the summer sun at the hottest part of the day. “You definitely should. But Chanyeol..?”

“Yes, Baekhyun.”

“Don’t ask,” Dream Baekhyun said, with another smile so bright it blinded Chanyeol like the glare of light on water. “Just do it.”

 

 

[ Click Next Chapter ] 


	2. Hold Me Closer, Sleepy Dancer (2/2)

_x._

With the summer concert a mere four weeks away, Chanyeol knew they only had a few more opportunities to practice before their performance. He arrived at the studio one Tuesday night, ready for their next class and looking forward to the one-on-one practice session that would come afterwards; instead he found Baekhyun sitting in his chair at the front of the room, his cane propped up between his knees.

“Hey,” Chanyeol said, smiling at him — his eyes landed on the cane, and the smile faded. “Are you okay? You look…um…”

Baekhyun looked up at Chanyeol, chewing on his lip. He looked pale and exhausted. “Like shit..?” he said, finishing Chanyeol’s sentence for him, and he smiled wryly, but the brightness didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s okay, you can say it. I feel like it, anyway.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “That’s not what I was going to say; you look great. Maybe a bit tired, that’s all.”

Baekhyun laughed — a dry, humourless laugh. “Ground rules, Chanyeol,” he said flatly, “don't bullshit me, and I won't bullshit you.” But he seemed to perk up a little during the class itself, even if he was confined to the chair for its entirety. Chanyeol ended up partnering with Dara again; she seemed to be showing more interest in him the more they danced together, but as usual, Chanyeol barely noticed. He was never anything less than friendly to her, but his eyes were always on Baekhyun, looking over at him to make sure he was okay, smiling whenever he smiled.

After everyone else had left at the end of the class, Baekhyun called Chanyeol over to the front of the room. “I’m having a bad day today,” he said. “I’ve been feeling a bit off this whole week, so I already had a hunch that a relapse was coming… and then this morning, I woke up like this. So I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ll be doing much practicing until I’ve recovered. We’ll just have to cram at the last second to make up for it.”

Chanyeol just smiled and shook his head. “No need to explain yourself… I understand completely. Your health comes first.”

Baekhyun bit his lip again in silence, looking like he really wanted to say something, but couldn’t. Chanyeol gestured towards the studio door behind him and said, “I can go, if you'd rather be alone? Or if you need help getting home—”

“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over to my place instead.” Baekhyun began chewing his lip again as soon as the words left his mouth, and Chanyeol hesitated — did Baekhyun actually _want_ him to come over, or was he just offering because he felt bad about cancelling their practice session? Then he saw the blush in Baekhyun’s cheeks, slowly deepening as he took more and more time to reply, and figured — maybe even hoped — that it was the former.

“You know where I live; it’s only a short walk down the road,” Baekhyun continued, when Chanyeol still had yet to speak. “There’s that little pizza joint on the ground floor. We can order pizza, watch a movie… maybe spend some time just being friends, for once.”

Chanyeol scratched the back of his neck while he considered the proposal. He was well past wanting to just be friends, and it didn't really sound like the kind of thing just-friends would do, but whatever. “Well, only if you really want me to.”

Baekhyun smiled; his eyes crinkled at the corners this time, which meant the smile was genuine, and Chanyeol relaxed a little when he saw it. “Of course I want you to. But it's okay if _you_ don't want to. I can imagine you probably have better things to do.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “I want to,” he said quietly, returning Baekhyun’s smile.

“Alright. It’s settled then.” Leaning on the cane, Baekhyun slowly and painfully got to his feet, and began trudging towards the door. “Just gonna warn you now, I'll be a bit slower than usual today.”

“That's okay. Take your time.” Chanyeol held the door open for Baekhyun, waiting for him to go through it, and then closed it behind him on their way out.

“I don't know how you stay so slim, living that close to a pizza place… pizza is my ultimate weakness,” he said to Baekhyun while they were walking down the street together. Baekhyun took slow, slightly wobbly steps, and Chanyeol wondered if he was in pain. The expression on his face seemed to suggest that he was, and Chanyeol was seconds away from offering him a piggyback, but thought that perhaps this would come across as patronising.

“I’ve always been disciplined about stuff like that,” Baekhyun said. “I got used to denying myself so I could keep my abs, but then I thought, fuck it.” Although still walking very slowly, he seemed in better spirits now, and Chanyeol wasn’t in a hurry anyway. “Anyway, once in a while won't hurt… life is for living, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol said, “of course it is.”

‘A bit slower than usual’ turned out to be an understatement — Chanyeol considered himself a fairly patient person, but Baekhyun’s slowness eventually became so exhausting to watch that, for a moment here and there, it made him desperately want to go to sleep. After what felt like an age, they reached the facade of Baekhyun’s apartment block, an ugly grey building next to the union bank. They ordered pizza at the little pizzeria on the ground floor, and Chanyeol pulled out his wallet to pay — until Baekhyun took out his own wallet, and used it to playfully beat him into submission. The young, bemused-looking guy working at the counter told them someone would bring their pizza up to them when it was ready.

“Yikes. Someone doesn’t like their job,” Chanyeol whispered to Baekhyun when they were leaving the restaurant. “What d'you reckon was up _his_ bum..?”

“Dunno… a pepperoni, maybe,” Baekhyun deadpanned, without missing a beat, and Chanyeol’s hand shot up to his mouth to keep an obnoxious guffaw from escaping. Baekhyun looked up at him in expressionless silence, and something about being under the scrutiny of his stare made Chanyeol’s face start to feel warm. Perhaps he should have turned it into a cough, he thought, but it was too late for that now.

“Why do you always stop yourself from laughing?” Baekhyun said at last; he didn’t sound critical in any way, but merely curious. Chanyeol stood there with his hand still over his mouth, unsure of what to say. Eventually he let the hand fall down by his side and said, “sometimes laughing too hard triggers a collapse, so… trying to hold it in has become a habit, I suppose.”

Baekhyun pondered this for a moment in silence. “I understand. But your laugh is lovely, and I wish you didn’t have to hide it.” That was all he said, but the look they gave each other afterwards felt like one of the more meaningful ones they’d shared so far. When they walked inside the apartment building together, Chanyeol was about to push the up button for the lift when he noticed the sign taped over the steel doors, scrawled in black marker on a crinkled piece of A4 paper — ‘OUT OF ODER’.

“Well, shit,” he said, “that’s unfortunate, isn’t it..?”

Baekhyun let out a little sigh behind him. “I know… it’s been out of bloody ‘oder’ for nearly a week. I heard someone’s coming to service it tomorrow.” He walked slowly past the lift, gesturing towards a door at the end of the corridor. “The stairwell’s just over here. I’m only on the first floor, anyway.”

Watching Baekhyun struggle up the stairs with only the aid of his cane and the handrail made Chanyeol's throat feel oddly tight. “Are you sure you’re alright?" he asked, several times over; he made sure to keep close behind Baekhyun with his arms out, ready to catch him in case he stumbled backwards or something.

“I'm fine,” Baekhyun said, although he sounded exhausted. “I’ll get there. It’s hardly Everest, is it..?”

Chanyeol knew better than to believe this, since it was the kind of brave-faced excuse he would make himself. “Can I help in any way?”

“Not really. Not unless you want to carry me up.” Baekhyun laughed, but it wasn't a real laugh; just a polite, wheezy little thing — a mood lightener. It sounded flat anyway, and Chanyeol didn't have it in him to reciprocate, because nothing about the situation was particularly funny. Baekhyun just continued to walk up the stairs in slow, painful silence, his legs so stiff-looking that it was a wonder he was able to bend them. Chanyeol noticed that he was stomping on each step really hard, too hard for it to be accidental.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked. “Stomping your feet so hard, I mean.”

“Because I can't feel my feet properly,” Baekhyun said. “And I don’t want to accidentally miss a step and fall flat on my beautiful face, do I?”

That was enough, Chanyeol thought. That was the last straw.

Before either of them had much time to think about it, he came up behind Baekhyun and scooped him up in his arms. Baekhyun immediately yelled out in protest, almost dropping his cane on the floor, but Chanyeol just shushed him — until Baekhyun nearly knocked him out with the cane, which swung around wildly in his grasp.

“Please,” Chanyeol said, “I want to help. Just… try not to beat me up over it, okay?” He soon began to have second thoughts. “God, you're heavy... I didn’t really think this through, did I?”

Baekhyun just laughed at him. “Of course I'm heavy… I’m a grown man. What the hell were you expecting?”

“Not sure… but it’s all good. Still plenty of ammo left in these guns,” Chanyeol said, even though he was already sweating beneath the weight of his cargo. Baekhyun was certainly more solid than he looked; Chanyeol figured it was his dancer’s body, all that muscle. “Alright, then — up we go!”

“You know, this really isn't necessary.” Baekhyun sounded a little nervous now. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust you. But what if you drop me accidentally..?”

Chanyeol knew what he meant. “Don’t worry, it’s only one flight of stairs. And if I start to feel the slightest bit fatigued, I’ll put you down, I promise.”

Baekhyun didn’t seem too convinced, but he didn’t argue. “Okay. Well… thanks, I guess.”

“You're very welcome,” Chanyeol said, trying to hide the strain in his voice, but somehow he couldn't help grinning anyway. “Nothing wrong with needing a bit of help. Even the most able-bodied among us need assistance from time to time; it’s perfectly fine.” He was getting seriously puffed out, but now the first floor was in sight.

Baekhyun laughed. “Thanks, Mr. Eternal Optimist… you’re lucky I don’t live any higher. That’s my place at the top there, facing the stairs — unit number 11.”

Chanyeol paused when they got to the top of the stairs, with Baekhyun still in his arms. His arm muscles were beginning to shake with the effort. “Cool. So how do we open the door?”

“Well, this is just a thought,” Baekhyun said, “but you could put me down first, and then maybe I could do it.”

“Right. Of course.” Chanyeol gently lowered Baekhyun to the floor; with that secret little smile on his face, Baekhyun averted his eyes and pulled out a set of keys on a silver ring. He unlocked the front door of his apartment, pushed it open and flicked a switch next to the doorframe, flooding the room with warm yellow light. The apartment was small — maybe even smaller than Chanyeol’s, at first glance — but it was neat and smelled pleasant, like scented candles. Chanyeol looked around the room they’d entered, which appeared to be the living room, taking in his surroundings with interest. The apartment was open-plan, the living room flowing into a neat little kitchen. There were lots of indoor plants — ferns and succulents in colourful ceramic pots — and a glass cabinet stuffed full of dancing awards, a sizeable collection of trophies, plaques, medals and ribbons. A small flat-screen television and a comfortably worn sofa covered in soft-looking brown leather, a grey loop-knit rug on the floor, and a low coffee table with a couple of hardcover photography books on top of it. Chanyeol noticed a black wheelchair with chrome wheels, standing against the wall in the corner, unfolded as though it had been recently used.

Chanyeol whistled to show his appreciation. “Nice place…”

“Thanks. Go and make yourself comfortable,” Baekhyun said. “I’ll get us something to drink. What would you—”

“I’ll do it,” Chanyeol said quickly, interrupting him. He grabbed Baekhyun by the shoulders and began steering him towards the sofa. “You should sit down and rest.”

Baekhyun sounded like he was about to argue, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. “Well, alright… you’ll find some stuff in the fridge. I’ve got Coke, juice, water, whatever you like. Just help yourself.”

While Baekhyun collapsed gratefully onto the sofa, Chanyeol walked over to the kitchen. “What can I get for you?” Baekhyun’s refrigerator was decorated with photos taken from some of his dancing competitions, held up with magnets in the shape of cartoon dancers and plastic fruit with smiley faces — happy little pineapples and bananas and stuff like that. Chanyeol stood there smiling goofily at the photos for a moment, and then stopped when it occurred to him that he could probably be seen from where Baekhyun was sitting.

“A beer would be good,” Baekhyun said. “I think I could use a drink or two, after the day I’ve had.”

“Coming right up.” Chanyeol opened the refrigerator door to check its contents. It was mostly full of healthy things, fruit and vegetables and the like, but on the bottom shelf were rows and rows of medication — little plastic bottles with weird unpronounceable names on their labels, and scary-looking needles filled with mysterious fluids. Chanyeol stared at them all, rooted to the spot in morbid fascination; somehow he felt deeply guilty at the same time, as though this was something personal that he probably shouldn’t have seen. He snapped out of it and grabbed two cans — an Asahi for Baekhyun and a Coke Zero for himself — closed the fridge door and wandered back over to the living room.

“Are you alright?” Baekhyun asked, frowning at him. “You look a bit funny.”

Chanyeol shook his head and handed Baekhyun the beer. “I’m fine… you just relax, okay? Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun went to open his beer, but kept struggling with the ring pull, trying repeatedly to lift it up and failing each time. Swearing under his breath, he sighed and handed it back to Chanyeol, looking a little embarrassed. “Do you mind..?”

Chanyeol opened the can and handed it back to Baekhyun without a word, offering him an understanding smile. They sat next to each other with their drinks for a while, sipping quietly without speaking. Chanyeol stood up from his seat, walking over to the glass cabinet full of dancing awards to have a closer look. There were several framed photographs, including one of a much younger Baekhyun, dancing with a beautiful girl in a sparkling red dress that matched the colour of his satin shirt.

“Hey, is this a photo of you?” he asked, pointing at the frame.

“Uh-huh. From when I was 15.” Baekhyun tilted the beer can to his lips and took a long swallow, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “We came first place in the junior championship that year. And the following year, as well.”

“Naww. Look how cute you were… you look so young.” Chanyeol turned to look at Baekhyun, comparing him to the boy in the photo. Baekhyun just smiled his beautiful secret smile at him, saying nothing, and Chanyeol was about to speak when there was a loud knock at the front door. “Ah, pizza’s here.”

“Thank God,” Baekhyun said, pretending to faint away with hunger. “I’m staaaaarving.” Chanyeol gave him a little dig in the ribs on his way past to get to the door, making him squeal with laughter.

“Do you think maybe I could see one of your competition videos, if you have any?” he asked a little later, when they sat next to each other on the sofa, two steaming pizza boxes open on the coffee table in front of them. “Only if you don’t mind, of course.”

Baekhyun looked over at Chanyeol in surprise, pausing mid-bite with a string of mozzarella connected to his mouth ( _so cute,_ Chanyeol thought, his insides clenching at the sight). He swallowed and said, “sure.” Then he pointed over at the shelf next to the TV, filled with books and DVDs. “There’s one on that shelf with ‘junior championship 2004’ written on the case in black marker. It’s pretty old, but it’s probably my favourite performance video.”

Chanyeol found the case he was looking for, put the disc into the DVD player and pressed the play button. The first thing he saw was a floor full of people dancing, a swirl of colour and movement, and it took a while for him to spot Baekhyun and his partner — they were wearing the same outfits as the ones in the photo, and Chanyeol realised it was from the same competition. They were surrounded by a number of other couples: all young men and women of a similar age, dancing some kind of Latin style, although Chanyeol was hardly an expert on the subject.

“That was the Samba,” Baekhyun said, pausing the video with the remote when the dance was over. “In a competition, you have to perform a number of dance styles in different rounds. In the Latin variant, it’s Samba, Cha-cha-cha, Rumba, Paso Doble and Jive; then the five Standard dances are the Waltz, Tango, Viennese Waltz, Foxtrot and Quickstep. It’s a wonderful experience, but it’s quite gruelling… definitely not for the faint of heart.” He let out a wistful little sigh. “But there are times when I miss it so much, the adrenaline and excitement, the sheer thrill of it. All those people in the audience cheering for you… sorry, now I’m getting all nostalgic on your arse.”

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol said, smiling. For the entire performance, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off the young couple in red, whenever they were on the screen. “Wow. You were _really_ good, though. I can see why you both won.”

“I know.” Baekhyun's voice was so quiet that Chanyeol hardly heard him.

“You still are really good, you know,” Chanyeol said. “I know you think you’ve lost it a bit, but you really haven’t. In fact, I think you’re even better.”

“Thanks.” Baekhyun laughed softly at first; then his eyes looked a little glassy, and Chanyeol wondered, with panic gripping his chest, if perhaps he'd upset him, and what would be the best way to handle the situation if this were the case. But Baekhyun only made an odd little sound in the back of his throat, and then he reached toward the coffee table for another slice of pizza.

“The girl you were dancing with… was that her?” Chanyeol asked cautiously. “Suzy, I mean.”

Baekhyun took his time to chew and swallow before he answered. “Yeah, that was her.”

“I thought so.” Chanyeol wasn’t sure what else to say. “You danced really beautifully together.”

Baekhyun only shook his head. “Let’s not get into all that again,” he said quietly, “I don’t feel like being depressed tonight.” He was silent for a moment. “We can watch a movie, if you like. I have a bunch over on the shelf there. You can choose.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Sure.” He got up and walked over to the shelf again, browsing through all the DVD titles. _Saturday Night Fever. Dirty Dancing. Strictly Ballroom. Step Up. Shall We Dance? Centre Stage. Billy Elliot. Black Swan. Footloose._ He was beginning to detect a common theme.

“Do you have anything here that isn’t about dancing..?” he asked, his mouth twitching at the corners. He turned back to look at Baekhyun and caught him smiling.

“Nope,” Baekhyun said, with a wicked little cackle.

“Okay. _Strictly Ballroom_ it is, then,” Chanyeol said, pulling it out from the shelf.

Baekhyun was quiet for the duration of the film, barely saying a word, not even laughing during the parts that were funny. Chanyeol didn’t laugh either, but there were a couple of times when he wanted to. Occasionally he looked over at Baekhyun to see his reaction to what they were watching; his expression was mostly impossible to read, although Chanyeol noticed that he got a little misty-eyed when they arrived at the scene with Fran and Scott dancing behind the curtain to _‘Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps’._

“Hey, it’s our Rumba song!” Chanyeol grinned at Baekhyun. “Is this why you chose it?”

Baekhyun nodded. “I’ve always loved this film, but I especially love this particular scene.” Now he was smiling too. “The dance is just wonderful… so romantic. Parts of my choreography were inspired by it, too.”

They both sat there in silence, watching the two dancers on the screen, and then Chanyeol got up from the sofa and stood in front of Baekhyun, reaching out to grab him by the hands.

Baekhyun looked surprised. “What’s all this..?”

“Slow-dance time,” Chanyeol said, gently pulling him up from his seat.. “C’mon. Let me help you up.”

Baekhyun laughed at the idea. “Seriously..?” But he let himself be lifted up anyway, without any sign of a struggle. Perhaps he was simply too tired to argue, Chanyeol thought. He knew what that was like.

“Put your feet on top of my feet,” he said, smiling. “We’ll see how good my leading skills are.”

“I don't think I even have the energy to lift my hand up to your shoulder and keep it there,” Baekhyun said, with an exhausted little laugh.

“Just put your arms around my waist, then. Surely this is better than not practicing at all?”

Baekhyun just laughed again. “I guess you’re right.”

They didn't really dance much, in the end; just held on to each other tight, swaying in time to the music. “How am I doing?” Chanyeol asked, half-jokingly, and Baekhyun looked up into his eyes — a long, steady stare, barely blinking. Chanyeol expected him to look away at some point, but he didn’t. “You're doing great,” he said softly, and at that moment the happiness Chanyeol felt as he gazed back at him was so overwhelming that he could feel his knees starting to give out, and he thought that he could so easily fall for this man right here, right now, forever. He could fall hard, and even if he ended up being hurt one day, that would be okay. Everything was going to be fine.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head to keep the fatigue at bay, stumbling over his words a little. In a few seconds he forgot what it was like entirely, feeling awake and strong as he had while carrying Baekhyun up the stairs; all he felt now was lethargic, jelly-legged, drained down to his last drop of life-blood. “I think I need to sit down for a bit.”

Baekhyun nodded in understanding, hopped off of Chanyeol’s feet, and gently pulled him over to the sofa by the hand. They both collapsed onto it at the same time.

“Now we’re both goners,” Chanyeol said wryly. “Well, it was good while it lasted.” The film carried on, and they just sat there staring at it for a while, but Chanyeol was no longer paying much attention to the story, and he could tell that Baekhyun wasn’t either.

Baekhyun looked over at Chanyeol, his expression one of concern. “Are you okay..?”

“Yeah. Just really tired all of a sudden,” Chanyeol whispered.

“Are you going to pass out..?”

Chanyeol shook his head, but even that felt like it was too hard for him. “I don’t know… I don’t think so. If I sit still for a while, and just don’t think or feel too much, it might go away.”

“I was wondering… are you still conscious when you collapse?” Baekhyun asked. “Because you don’t seem to be responsive when it happens.

“Sometimes I can still hear what’s going on around me, but usually I’m asleep,” Chanyeol said. “And I can have really vivid dreams, even when I’m only passed out for a minute or two. Actually, I’ve been having lots of dreams about dancing, lately.” He smiled at Baekhyun. “I guess I'm not that surprised.”

Baekhyun looked thoughtful; it was adorable, and made Chanyeol want to kiss him even more than he did already. “I didn't know people could even dream in such a short time,” he said. “A lot of the time when I sleep, I don’t dream at all. Or at least, I don’t remember them when I wake up.”

“When you have narcolepsy, you can reach the R.E.M. stage of the sleep cycle much quicker than a person usually would,” Chanyeol explained. “So I might be asleep for only a few minutes, but I can still have many dreams in that time.”

“Interesting,” Baekhyun said. He laughed softly. “And I thought MS was a strange affliction..”

“Mmm. You know what else..?”

Baekhyun leaned in a little closer to Chanyeol, licked his lips and whispered, “what else?”

“Ever since we met, a few of those dreams have been about you,” Chanyeol said. “About dancing with you.”

Baekhyun looked surprised by this. “About me..?”

Chanyeol nodded. “Sometimes the person I’m dancing with doesn’t actually look like you… but I still know that it’s you. I can just feel it. Does that make any sense, or am I rambling?”

“It does. It makes perfect sense.” Baekhyun was quiet for a moment, his smile turning wistful again. “I dream about dancing, too, sometimes… the way I did when I was younger. The sweetest dreams are the cruelest, aren't they?” The smile faded a little. “Especially when they show you what you desperately long for; what you once loved dearly, and know you can never have again.”

“I feel you,” Chanyeol whispered. He felt Baekhyun shifting on the sofa next to him, and then there was a pair of warm lips pressed against the side of his face for a second, just in front of his ear.

Chanyeol turned to stare at Baekhyun in surprise, his face splitting into a shy grin. “Well, hello… what was that for..?”

“I just felt like being brave for once,” Baekhyun said. He was smiling too, and there was a lovely, healthy blush on his cheeks that Chanyeol was sure would be rivalling his own. “Thought I’d sneak one in before you go and fall asleep on me.”

Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun for a long time. “You know, when we’re dancing,” he began, and then he paused, swallowing hard. He could feel his heart pounding, and it made him feel dizzy on top of his sleepiness. “When I look at you the way I do… I’m not acting. I don’t think I’ve ever needed to.”

“I know,” Baekhyun whispered. “I’ve known that for a while. I figured it out even before you kissed me.”

“But you don’t like me that way,” Chanyeol said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

Baekhyun let out a long stream of air from his nostrils. “I do like you. I’m just… not quite there yet.”

“Because of Suzy?” Chanyeol asked.

“Chanyeol…” From the tone of Baekhyun’s voice, and the way he went quiet, this seemed like a warning not to press him further, and Chanyeol heeded it.

“It’s okay… I understand,” he said. “I won't bug you about it anymore. I just wanted you to know that I really like you, that’s all. I haven’t liked someone this much in a long time.”

Baekhyun looked at Chanyeol again, and then he leaned over, held his face in both hands and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Again he was smiling when he leaned back, and that lovely smile was so contagious that Chanyeol couldn’t help throwing one back at him.

“What’s with all these kisses today, huh?” His eyelids were beginning to droop, and he didn’t know how much longer he had left. Hopefully long enough to get just one more kiss; he’d have crossed all his fingers and toes in honour of the cause, if he’d had the strength even to do that. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Don't hate me, but I kind of just wanted to kiss you. So I did.”

“Why would I hate you, beautiful?” Chanyeol asked. He reached out to touch Baekhyun’s face, tracing the edge of his cheekbone with his thumb, and Baekhyun let him.

“I don't know,” he whispered, leaning into Chanyeol’s hand and smiling. “I’m a bit drunk. Drunkenness and logic aren't friends.”

Chanyeol wanted to laugh at that, because Baekhyun was only on his second beer. “Well, we can kiss some more if you want,” he said, trying — and failing — to sound casual about it. Baekhyun looked like he was about to lean in a third time when Chanyeol held him back with a gentle hand placed upon his chest. He could feel Baekhyun’s heart against his hand, the soft heave of every breath he took. Baekhyun licked his lips, his eyes locked on Chanyeol’s, and it made Chanyeol do the same almost without thinking.

“Before we do that, I just want to warn you that I sometimes fall asleep when I’m nervous,” he said. “And also when I’m excited. And when I’m turned on. And… whenever I’m feeling anything at all, apparently.”

Baekhyun burst out laughing at this, but then he stopped himself. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, covering his mouth with one hand. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you. That was mean of me.”

Chanyeol had to crack a smile in spite of himself. “It’s okay. I’d probably laugh too, if I were you. I just wanted to make sure you know that if I _do_ fall asleep… it's not because of you. You're wonderful, really. It's... I—”

“Shhh, you’re rambling… it’s okay. I know.” Baekhyun held a finger up to Chanyeol’s lips to silence him, smiling when Chanyeol kissed it. “You'll be fine. If you stop kissing me back, and I can see that you’ve fallen asleep, then I'll stop too. Now close your eyes.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol swallowed, closed his eyes and waited, licking his lips in anticipation. Baekhyun's mouth, so warm and soft, finally met his in a long, slow kiss that had him melting right away.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispered, the name little more than a weak groan escaping from the back of his throat. For a moment he felt like he might really pass out, and wondered if maybe he'd died and was in heaven already, and now an angel was kissing him. It sounded silly, perhaps, but that was how it felt. Baekhyun lay down on his side, settling next to Chanyeol on the sofa, their bodies pressed close together; he kept one hand on Chanyeol's face while they kissed, and licked the inside of his mouth until Chanyeol opened up a little wider to let him in. They kissed for what felt like an hour, but was probably only several minutes — sometimes slow kisses and sometimes not-so-slow ones, their hands roaming over each other’s faces and through each other’s hair. Baekhyun sucked and nibbled gently on Chanyeol's bottom lip, and then he sucked on his tongue; this was especially enjoyable, and made Chanyeol utter a weird, strangled little sound that he hoped came across as one of approval.

Baekhyun laughed. “You like that, huh?” A few times he paused with his open mouth resting against Chanyeol's, the two of them not really kissing for a moment, but just breathing each other in, the feeling of sharing each other's breath so simple and yet deeply intimate. Chanyeol had never been kissed like that before. He thought that Baekhyun kissed in much the same way he danced; sweet but sexy, playful yet passionate, like it really meant something to him. He kissed Chanyeol like he needed to do it in order to go on living, and for a moment he had Chanyeol convinced that he had to do the same.

“I knew it, you know,” Chanyeol said, whispering into the millimetre of space separating their lips — the maximum amount of space allowed, according to some unspoken rule between them.

Baekhyun pulled away for a moment to kiss Chanyeol's ear, trailing kisses all the way along his jawline to his chin. “Knew what..?”

“When we met, I could tell just by looking at you that you'd be a great kisser. And then the first time I kissed you, you proved me right.” Chanyeol closed his eyes, smiling to himself, enjoying the feeling of Baekhyun’s lips on his neck. “But this is just… wow.”

Baekhyun laughed. “Well, I’m good at other things too,” he said, kissing the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth.

“Like what?” Chanyeol asked. Baekhyun was on top of him now, and he had both hands on his hips, slowly moving them up the sides of his body.

“Dancing,” Baekhyun whispered, returning his attention to Chanyeol’s neck.

“And..?”

Baekhyun thought about it for a moment. “Grinding on strangers in nightclubs..?”

Chanyeol tilted his head back, inviting Baekhyun to kiss more of his neck. “Anything else?

Baekhyun laughed softly, his warm breath making Chanyeol shiver a little. “I’m good at only having movies about dancing in my apartment.”

“You're a treasure… you really are,” Chanyeol said; he was grinning from ear to ear, and he couldn’t help himself. “You make me smile so much.”

“And you’re gorgeous,” Baekhyun whispered; he moved Chanyeol’s shirt aside and began to kiss his shoulder. “I’ve been trying to hold myself back around you, but I don’t think I can help it anymore. I’m so into you.”

“ _I’m_ gorgeous? Have you been near a mirror lately..?”

“I saw twenty clones of me in the studio mirrors today, and it was nothing special,” Baekhyun said. He leaned in closer to Chanyeol’s face, so close that both of his pretty eyes merged into one. “Cyclops,” Chanyeol whispered, smiling, and when Baekhyun laughed, he did too. It made him desperately want to fall asleep, but only for a moment.

“You know, it’s really nice to hear you laughing more.” Baekhyun smiled and kissed Chanyeol again, whispering, “I think I might be a little bit in love..”

Chanyeol was barely hanging on to the last threads of consciousness now. “Admit it,” he whispered into Baekhyun’s mouth, “you only brought me here to seduce me.”

Baekhyun laughed into the kiss. “Like I even have the energy to seduce you..”

“S’alright… I don't have the energy to _be_ seduced, either. But I think I’d really like to be seduced by you, one day.”

Baekhyun’s hand was on Chanyeol’s chest, his fingers tracing little circular patterns on it through his t-shirt. “I invited you over because, apart from being fun to dance with, I think you're hot, and really nice, and I enjoy flirting with you,” he said in a quiet voice. “And okay, I admit it... I was testing the waters to see if I might want to try ‘seducing’ you at a later date. Maybe when my body stops being the traitor it is right now.”

“And do you want to?” Chanyeol asked. “Seduce me some day, I mean.”

Baekhyun smiled. “This whole ‘let’s dance with each other at the summer concert’ thing was really just a ploy to let you feel me up for a couple of hours a week. Didn’t you know?”

“I think I knew that, deep down,” Chanyeol said, grinning back at him. “I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

Baekhyun put his lips to Chanyeol’s ear. “One day, if you want me to, I’ll teach you my number one favourite dance style,” he whispered, his breath sending pleasant shivers down Chanyeol’s neck and back. “I call it the ‘horizontal tango’…”

“I look forward to that very much.” Chanyeol held out his arm to squint at his watch, his eyebrows raising at the time. “But I really should go home soon… I don't think I'll last much longer, anyway. I’ll probably fall asleep in the cab on the way.” He wriggled around in an attempt to get up from the sofa, but Baekhyun immediately wrapped both arms around his waist, wrestling him down again with whatever strength he had left.

“Oh, no you don’t — I’m not done with you yet!” he said. “Anyway, I’m worried about you going out like this. Maybe you should just sleep over.” He looked shy for a moment. “We don’t have to do anything… just sleep.”

Chanyeol knew this wouldn't be a good idea. He had to go home and take his medication at the same time he always did, or else he'd be screwed for the next day; he had therapy sessions and music tutorials scheduled back-to-back, all the way into the early evening. But Baekhyun was looking at him with those big, bright puppy eyes, and he couldn’t help himself. How could he say no? “Well, maybe I’ll stay just a little longer. But that’s all.” When Baekhyun kissed him again, he knew he’d made the right decision, but he could feel his eyelids growing so heavy it was unbearable; he prayed to stay awake, repeating the words until they lost their meaning — _please, stay awake. Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake…_

“If I do fall asleep, then I really hope that this is what I dream of,” he whispered, his head buried in the warmth of Baekhyun’s neck. He faded away before he could catch Baekhyun’s reply.

When he opened his eyes again, someone was humming softly, somewhere above him; it took him a little while to remember where he was.

Baekhyun had Chanyeol's head cradled in his lap now, gently combing his fingers through his hair. “You fell asleep,” he whispered, smiling. “But only for a couple of minutes.”

Chanyeol groaned. “I’m sorry… I guess we both knew that was going to happen.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “It’s alright. You looked like you were having a nice dream, so I didn’t want to wake you. It was pretty cute. Did you dream of me?”

Chanyeol thought about lying for a moment, but then changed his mind. “Nah. Not this time.”

Baekhyun chuckled all of a sudden, and Chanyeol thought about how much he loved it — a gorgeous, bubbly sort of sound, like a little brook running over stones. “I know it sounds dumb… but I thought maybe holding your hand or stroking your hair while you slept might make it happen.”

“Should have kissed me instead,” Chanyeol whispered. Baekhyun kept stroking his hair, softly singing to himself. “ _Hold me closer, sleepy dancer; count the headlights on the highway_ …”

“Keep stroking my hair like that and I’ll probably fall asleep again,” Chanyeol warned him. He looked up at Baekhyun and smiled. By the time he actually realised he was smiling, it was too hard to stop, so he kept doing it.

Baekhyun’s mouth twisted into a playful little smile of its own. “Why are you looking at me like that..?”

“No special reason… just looking at you, and feeling really happy that you exist,” Chanyeol said quietly. “I sometimes find myself wondering if you're even real, or just a beautiful dream that I keep having.”

Baekhyun pinched him hard on the thigh without warning, and Chanyeol yelped in surprise. “Ow! What was that for?” For a second, at least, he felt wide awake again, but then it had the opposite effect, his eyes rolling back into his head. He shook his head a few times to push the feeling away. “You almost sent me back over the edge.”

Baekhyun smiled, looking a little guilty at the same time. “Sorry. Just wanted to prove you weren’t dreaming.”

Chanyeol beamed back at him, the pain in his thigh quickly forgotten. But the fatigue was creeping back in again, filling his skull like molten lead, slow and insidious. He felt every muscle in his body start to go slack. “Come here,” he said softly, “so I can kiss that pretty mouth one more time.” Still smiling, Baekhyun leaned down until their lips met, pressing one hand against Chanyeol’s chest, over his heart. Chanyeol put his own hand on top of it, holding it there.

“Don't stop this time,” he whispered, in the brief pause between their kisses. “Even if I fall asleep… don’t stop.”

He woke up again — how much time had passed, he didn’t know. But there was something warm brushing against his lips, and he soon realised that Baekhyun was still kissing him, just as he’d asked him to.

“Baek,” Chanyeol said, his voice weak and croaky, and Baekhyun pulled away. He lifted his head, looking down at Chanyeol with a soft expression.

“You fell asleep again, huh,” he said.

It was all Chanyeol could do to nod once, his head was so heavy. It felt far too heavy for his neck. He was still completely sapped of all his strength, the short time he was away from the world offering no real respite, but now there was a warm fluttering feeling in his chest and stomach that he’d never felt before. He felt good — warm and sleepy, and a little aroused from all the kissing, but not enough for it to be uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Baekhyun said quietly. He lay down on the sofa next to Chanyeol, wedged between him and the cushions, and laid his head on his chest. “For now, let’s just rest.”

After a short sleep on the sofa with Baekhyun’s arms wrapped around him, Chanyeol woke up feeling better. They lay like that a while longer, talking about whatever came into their heads, occasionally stopping to make out a little more. It wasn’t really a date, Chanyeol thought — not in the strictest sense — but it was still somehow the best date he’d been on in a long time.

“Where’s the weirdest time or place you’ve fallen asleep?” Baekhyun still had his head on Chanyeol’s chest; his hair was soft in Chanyeol’s fingers, and smelled good, like apple shampoo.

“Hmm. Too many to mention.” Chanyeol let out a sleepy, contented sigh. “While walking down the street. During countless dinner dates. While having sex. On the toilet — _always_ on the bloody toilet. On the shoulder of the person in front of me, while standing in line at the supermarket… that was a strong contender.”

Baekhyun laughed softly. “Oh man… I’ll bet that went well.”

“About as well as you’d expect.” Chanyeol was quiet for a while. “I think you’re lovely,” he whispered. “I don’t know why… but I feel like I’ve known you all my life. And I’d love it, _really_ love it, if we could go out sometime. But only if you like me as much as I like you.”

Baekhyun lifted his head from Chanyeol’s chest, looking down at him with amusement. “You really want to go out with me that bad..?”

“It would make my whole entire life if you said yes,” Chanyeol said, smiling at him. “Even more than Mozart magically resurrecting himself and agreeing to play a duet with me.”

“Alright, then… I’ll go out with you. Only because you’re such a sweetheart.” Baekhyun returned his head to Chanyeol’s chest, one arm wrapped around his body, his fingers tracing patterns in the bare skin of Chanyeol’s arm. “I mean we’ve already had our hands all over each other, so it just seems like the next logical step, I think.”

Chanyeol found he couldn’t agree more.

Just before he went home, they stood outside Baekhyun’s front door and Chanyeol kissed him goodnight, holding him close with one arm around his shoulders, the other resting lightly on the small of his back. He could feel Baekhyun growing weaker with every kiss, until he started buckling at the knees as Chanyeol had earlier, and if they hadn't ended up against the front door, Chanyeol wondered if he might have dropped down to the floor. If he even knew how to fall safely.

“Tell me,” Baekhyun whispered, “how am I meant to resist someone who kisses like you..?”

“I’ll let you know when I find out,” Chanyeol whispered back, pulling away to look into Baekhyun’s eyes. “Are you alright? Do you need to go lie down?” He bit his lip — if Baekhyun could look that hot doing it, then maybe it would work for him as well. “Because I’m starting to think I do.”

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun said, laughing. His eyes were still half-closed; he stood on his toes until their lips were just barely touching again, and said, “I think it's just you, making me like this.”

“Then should I stop..?” Chanyeol asked, kissing him again one last time — or what he thought would be one last time.

“No. Please don’t.” Baekhyun threw his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, pulling him in for one more kiss, which quickly became two, and then three, and then Chanyeol lost count again. He didn't want to think it was so sexy, hearing Baekhyun beg to be kissed like that. But it was — incredibly sexy — and he was the one going weak in the knees this time.

“It’s nice to see that you want me so much,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to Baekhyun’s cheek, and another to the tip of his nose. “Makes me feel good about myself.”

“Mmm… maybe I do. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you,” Baekhyun said, in playful, taunting singsong; he smiled and reached up with one hand to smooth down Chanyeol’s messy hair. “Not tonight, anyhow.”

“Does it still count as sleeping with me if we do it standing up?” Chanyeol whispered, kissing his ear.

“Ha!” Baekhyun laughed, “nice try. You _can_ have another kiss, though.”

“Cool,” Chanyeol said. “I’ll take it.”

“I think I should send you home.” Baekhyun smiled into the kiss; he gave Chanyeol’s bottom lip a soft little nip with his teeth, tugging on it gently before letting go. “For your own good, before you collapse on me. Not sure I have the energy to scrape you up off the floor right now.”

“Alright.” Chanyeol smoothed down his crinkled t-shirt, trying to look a bit more presentable before walking outside. He needed to go take his medication, anyway. “Probably good timing… and I can even use this gigantic hard-on you so cruelly left me with to flag down a cab. How’s that for winning?”

Baekhyun laughed at that. “Good one. See you Thursday, then?” Once again he looked hopeful, and it made Chanyeol’s heart feel so full that he thought it might burst out of his chest.

“Yep. I’ll be there with bells on.” He leaned over to give Baekhyun one last kiss, just shy of the corner of his mouth. Suddenly full of energy again, he danced down the stairs, out into the street and all the way to the cab stand like no one was watching, completely forgetting to wear his helmet on the way.

_xi._

“Okay,” Baekhyun said, sounding a little out of breath, “let's do it again.”

Chanyeol groaned. “Really..?” His entire body ached by now, but surprisingly he wasn’t that tired; he just desperately wanted to sit down.

“We’re not stopping until you've convinced me that you’re going to get all the steps right. Or until one of us is on the floor… whichever comes first.” They were dancing so close now that it was hard not to bump into each other occasionally; Baekhyun laughed each time it happened, Chanyeol didn't — mostly out of habit, although sometimes he really wanted to. Baekhyun had recovered well from his last relapse, and now, two days before the concert, he was as fit as Chanyeol had ever seen him. Sometimes the warmer weather made him a little sluggish, but otherwise he seemed happier, healthier, more mobile. Things were going well on the practice front, although they’d had to spend that night dancing in Chanyeol's living room with the furniture pushed as far out of the way as they could get it — there were no empty studio rooms at LSD, since everyone else was rehearsing for the concert too, and Baekhyun always thought it was better for the two of them to practice without the distraction of other people.

“Don’t forget your basic step sequence: quick, quick, slow,” Baekhyun said. “Go on, I want to hear you repeating it to yourself.”

“Quick, quick, slow,” Chanyeol mumbled under his breath, trying his hardest to stay focused. It was easy enough to lose concentration; he was not the crude-minded sort by nature, but the way Baekhyun moved his body whenever they danced the Rumba always made Chanyeol think about sex. He couldn't really help this (not entirely unwelcome) mental intrusion; it just happened. It didn’t really help that their version of the Rumba was possibly the sexiest, most hands-on routine they’d attempted to learn since they started dancing together, and all Chanyeol could think about was Baekhyun’s promise to teach him the 'horizontal tango' some day. But so far, he'd heard no further mention of it.

He still wasn't really sure where they stood in their relationship; Baekhyun had agreed to date him almost a month ago now, but after that, things had gone on mostly the same — they met up and practised together, had dinner sometimes, kissed sometimes. There was no question that Baekhyun really liked him too, but he seemed content to take things slowly, and Chanyeol wished he had as much patience. Maybe it wouldn't have been as hard if Baekhyun didn't have a penchant for teasing him; but he did, and whenever they were dancing, it was even worse.

“I feel like I’m leading _you_ at the moment, instead of the other way around,” Baekhyun said, sounding slightly exasperated. “At this part here, when I move my hips, you're supposed to move with me — don’t be so stiff. But remember, the movement isn’t born in the hips; it’s an illusion created by a bending and straightening of the knees, which in turn makes the hips move. The upper body doesn’t move much at all.” He pulled away from Chanyeol for a moment and stood there on his own to demonstrate, slowly moving his hips in a side-to-side motion. “As far as chemistry goes, think of it like sex. Do you just lie there like a plank of wood, and hope the sparks will fly on their own? Or do you move your body in rhythm with your lover’s, and actually ignite something between you? There has to be that tension, the push and pull… I choreographed the dance this way because I wanted it to be sexy, but it won’t be very sexy if you don’t work with me.”

“So what do you want me to do then?” Chanyeol asked; he stood there and watched Baekhyun, mesmerised by his magical hips.

“While we're dancing, I want you to think of me not just as a dance partner, but as your lover,” Baekhyun said softly. “Okay, now you try it; move your legs the right way, and your hips will follow.”

Chanyeol tried his best to copy what Baekhyun was doing; he felt silly, but Baekhyun seemed to think it was good. “Much better,” he said, clapping his hands, and then he winked at Chanyeol. “So sexy. I feel like a very lucky man right now.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help smiling. He was almost certain he was blushing, too, and was glad there were no mirrored walls around to confirm this.

“Very good… keep it up,” Baekhyun whispered, and then they resumed their positions. “Now, whenever we're facing each other, remember to look into my eyes. And move your body with mine. I know I’m helping you lead me, but we don’t want the audience to know that.”

“Does this mean you really want to be my lover?” Chanyeol whispered, moving his lips to Baekhyun's ear. “Or is it all an act to fool the people watching?”

“I haven't decided yet. But I'm open to a bit of gentle persuasion,” Baekhyun said, looking up at Chanyeol through half-closed eyes. He was smiling again. “Yes, that’s perfect… look at me like that. Like you want to get me naked.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Chanyeol said, trying to keep the beginnings of a cheeky grin in check. Baekhyun, the outrageous flirt that he was, kept a hint of a smirk on his face whenever their eyes met, the slightest little upturn of his lips. He was already irresistible at the best of times, but his dancing persona oozed a natural and convincing sensuality, and it didn’t matter how many hours they’d spent practicing together; Chanyeol still felt awkward and wooden by comparison. He thought he would have liked to see Baekhyun wearing nothing _but_ that little smirk of his, but he only entertained the thought for a second or two, saving his attention for getting the steps right.

Their dancing partnership, unlike their relationship, seemed to be rocketing forward at a million miles an hour; until Chanyeol started dancing this way, he'd never imagined it was possible to be so intimate with someone while remaining fully clothed. Baekhyun was pressed right up against him now, one leg lifted up so that it rested at the level of Chanyeol’s hipbone; he guided Chanyeol’s hand down to his thigh, moving both their hands slowly along the length of it together, and Chanyeol felt the warmth of his body intensely in all the places they were touching, even through the fabric of their clothes.

What was that thing Baekhyun was always saying about all the different points of contact? Chanyeol was sure they were making contact in at least fifty places right now.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Baekhyun whispered. “Pretend I'm the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.”

You _are_ the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Chanyeol wanted to say, but he’d temporarily lost the capacity for speech. _‘If you can’t make your mind up, we’ll never get started,’_ Doris Day was singing in the background. He knew how she felt.

“Might have to use your imagination a little,” Baekhyun said with a chuckle; he twirled away from Chanyeol, still holding him by the hand, and then he came back in again just as quickly, as though their bodies were inseparable forces, unable to keep away from each other for more than a few seconds at a time. He lifted his leg again, this time partly hooking it around Chanyeol’s hips to steady himself, and then he threw his head back, bending himself so far backwards that he was gazing at his own upside-down reflection in the glass balcony door behind them. Chanyeol marvelled at the view before him: at the lovely curve of Baekhyun’s back, and his bare chest peeking through his unbuttoned shirt, and the long, slender column of his throat. There was no denying that he had a beautiful physique, sculpted to its present perfection by years of determination and hard work, and it often slipped Chanyeol's mind that Baekhyun wasn’t well; he had a way of making you forget this fact entirely when he was dancing. All but two of his shirt buttons had come undone, the skin on his chest flushed with heat, his fingers clutching at Chanyeol's shoulder. Chanyeol was sure he’d find nail marks there later, as he sometimes did after a particularly heated practice session. He noticed one or two swollen veins beginning to pop out from Baekhyun’s neck.

“Give me your hand,” Baekhyun whispered. Chanyeol did as he was told, swallowing hard at the way Baekhyun moved the hand over the front of his body so that it just barely touched him, from his chest down to his stomach, his skin smooth and hot beneath Chanyeol’s fingertips.

Chanyeol suddenly felt exhausted. He needed water, and fresh air, and to take a very long, very cold shower with his clothes on.

_‘So if you really love me, say yes — but if you don’t dear, confess. But please don’t tell me…’_

“Okay, now you can kiss me," Baekhyun said, his chest heaving so hard he could barely get the words out. He sounded strained, panting from the effort of holding himself that way for as long as he had, every muscle taut and tense and quivering. The expression on his face was one of slight pain, or perhaps it was pleasure; Chanyeol had a feeling it was probably both.

“Kiss me,” Baekhyun whispered again. His voice was so soft it was nearly lost to the music. “What are you waiting for..?”

Had he heard that instruction right, Chanyeol wondered, or was his mind playing tricks on him?

_‘Perhaps, perhaps, per—’_

“I said _lift_ me! Lift me up..!”

Chanyeol quickly helped Baekhyun upright again, his face burning even hotter than before. “Oops. Sorry.”

“It's okay. It's fine. That was very good.” Baekhyun pulled away from Chanyeol, still wearing that slightly pained expression, breathing hard and wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of one hand. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, slicking it back away from his forehead, and then he began to pace around the room, alternately shaking and stretching the tension out of his limbs. He didn't look at Chanyeol while he did this, keeping his eyes trained on the floor while he warmed himself down. “I know this routine isn’t an easy one," he said, “but you’ve come a really long way, and I’m very proud of you.”

Chanyeol bit his lip to keep from grinning too widely, but he couldn't help himself. “Really? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better..?”

Much to Chanyeol’s disappointment, Baekhyun began to button his shirt up again, with some difficulty. “I should just face the fact that I can’t handle buttons anymore, shouldn’t I,” he muttered to himself, and when he was done, he stood there looking at Chanyeol with his hands on his hips, wearing a thoughtful expression. Chanyeol could tell he was carefully choosing his words, but he could trust that whatever Baekhyun said next would be the truth; he wasn’t the sugar-coating type. “I won't lie... for a while I was a little sceptical about how this was going to go,” he said. “But I'm really happy with how far you've come. Anyway, we’re only in this to have fun, right?”

 _Was_ it fun, or just a strangely enjoyable form of mental and physical torture? Maybe Chanyeol hadn't properly thought this whole dancing thing through. But the one undeniable fact was this: no matter how challenging the choreography was — how many times he tripped over his own feet or Baekhyun's feet and got confused while counting the steps and just cocked things up in general — Chanyeol knew he couldn't get enough of it. He could get through entire practice sessions without feeling the intense desire to sleep, and he was fitter than he’d been in ages, and he also got to spend a couple of hours every week getting nicely acquainted with Baekhyun and his glorious body, feeling that incredible electricity crackling between them — definitely a bonus.

“Do you think we’re ready?” he asked quietly, watching Baekhyun continue to stretch for a moment, before he started doing the same himself.

Baekhyun shrugged. He bent over forwards as far as he could, reaching towards the floor. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”

Chanyeol ran a hand through his hair, pushing sweaty strands of it up away from his forehead. “I’m so fucking nervous already. What if I shit myself on stage?”

Baekhyun laughed and said, “you won’t, I promise. But if in doubt, wear black pants.” He stood up straight again, reaching for the ceiling. “Are you sleepy, babe?” He’d taken to calling Chanyeol cute pet names lately, stuff like ‘babe’ and ‘cutie’, and Chanyeol would have been embarrassed to admit how much he loved it; even though Baekhyun always wrinkled his nose whenever he reciprocated, Chanyeol suspected he enjoyed it too.

He shook his head. “Not really. Surprisingly.”

“Good.” Baekhyun walked over to Chanyeol, put both hands on the sides of his face and tilted his head downwards, kissing him softly on the lips.

“Mmm. What was that for..?” Chanyeol smiled, his hands moving down to Baekhyun’s waist.

“Whenever we dance, I always really want to kiss you afterwards,” Baekhun whispered, smiling back at him.

Chanyeol wondered if he had steam coming out of his ears, and if Baekhyun could see it.

“Well, I’m buggered,” Baekhyun said, and he stood on his toes again to give Chanyeol another kiss, this time on the cheek. He walked over to the corner of the room where he’d left his gym bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “I should probably call it a night… make sure you get some rest, okay? We'll meet up and have another run through both routines tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Chanyeol said, before Baekhyun could leave. “What are you doing now..?”

Baekhyun gave him a blank look, but then he smiled. “I _was_ going to go home and fall into my bed and die, but if you have a better idea…?”

Without waiting for him to finish speaking, Chanyeol walked over, grabbed Baekhyun by the shoulders and kissed him hard, and then gradually softer and slower, until he felt Baekhyun's knees start to go weak. His body began to melt in Chanyeol's embrace, as it always seemed to do whenever they kissed. A little sigh bled from his lips into Chanyeol's mouth, and he opened his eyes, looking up at Chanyeol with a tender expression of helplessness -- a refreshing change from his usual confidence, Chanyeol thought, one of his hands caressing the side of Baekhyun's face. He loved seeing Baekhyun like this; it was rare and precious, and there was something so sweet about it, something that made him want to take Baekhyun in his arms and never let him go.

“Before you do that, come with me, just for a minute,” he whispered, moving Baekhyun’s hair away from his eyes.

Baekhyun didn't ask; he just nodded in silence, dumping his bag on the floor again and following Chanyeol over to the poky little spare bedroom, which he used as his music room. Chanyeol sat down in front of his piano, patting the bench next to him. “Sit. There’s something I’ve been wanting to play for you.”

Baekhyun sat down next to Chanyeol with his hands pressed between his thighs, as though trying to keep them from wandering around. “For me?”

“Yeah. For you.” Chanyeol positioned his fingers on the keys and closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s still pretty rough, but I think I’m ready to play it for you, if you want to hear it.”

“Of course I want to hear it,” Baekhyun said quietly.

“Okay. Well, here goes.” Chanyeol began to play. It was a quick piece, barely a couple of minutes long, but gentle and soothing — he’d composed it gradually over the course of a few weeks, and it wasn’t exactly a masterpiece; but he’d put his whole heart into it, and he could only hope that Baekhyun would hear the beat of it in every chord. Sometimes he felt his eyelids droop a little, like maybe he was going to fall asleep, but he never did. There was only silence after he finished, the last note echoing in the air, and then Baekhyun whispered, “wow.”

Chanyeol smiled. “I hope that's a good ‘wow’..”

“That was…” Baekhyun paused for a moment, clearly lost for words. “It was so beautiful. I’m really touched that you would make something like that just for me.”

“That piece I just played was my first composition in... I can't even tell you how long,” Chanyeol said, turning his head to look at Baekhyun. “And I know it’s short, that maybe it seems like it’s nothing much, but you don’t realise how much that means to me. How meeting you has completely changed this whole attitude I’d formed about myself.”

He paused for a moment to pick up one of Baekhyun's hands, softly kissing the back of it. “Shortly before I met you, I was really struggling with my music; I knew I was too afraid to really feel anything anymore, and that made it difficult to form new compositions, or even evoke any emotion while playing. I no longer had that outlet in music that I desperately needed, despite always trying to help other people find the same thing. And then, of course, _you_ came waltzing merrily into my life…”

Baekhyun laughed at that. “I think to say I came booty-popping into your life would be more accurate.”

Chanyeol smiled at him, but then the smile gradually faded, replaced with a solemn expression; he reached out to put one hand on the side of Baekhyun’s face. His heart began to pound when Baekhyun leaned into his touch, turning his head to kiss the palm of Chanyeol’s hand, then folding it closed and kissing his fingers instead.

“The very first time I saw you dancing on the beach, I was so captivated by you,” Chanyeol whispered, watching Baekhyun continue to kiss his hand. “I know it sounds corny, but you left me breathless. And I didn't know you, then; I had no idea what you were up against, but when I looked at you, I didn’t see someone who was unwell. All I could see was the beauty of possibility, the grace with which you moved… and God help me, that was all I could think to myself, because I couldn’t take my eyes off you then, and I haven’t been able to since. I didn’t know how else to let you know how I feel about you, so… I wrote you a little song. I hope you liked it.”

Baekhyun let go of Chanyeol’s hand and looked at him for a moment without speaking. Then he shuffled a little closer on the bench, put one arm around Chanyeol’s neck and kissed him softly on the mouth.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes’,” Chanyeol said, without opening his eyes. He could feel Baekhyun smiling against his lips.

“Well done, wallflower,” Baekhyun whispered, kissing him one more time; when Chanyeol opened his eyes again, he was still smiling, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink. “You have completely and utterly seduced me.”

Chanyeol couldn't help cracking a smile of his own. “Really...?”

“Yep. Well, I’m a little miffed that you beat me to the punch, but whatever. Consider me sold.” Baekhyun got up from the bench and walked around the back of it to stand next to Chanyeol. He wiggled his hips in a sexy fashion while he began to unbutton his shirt. “I might just start getting naked now, if that's alright with you.”

“Don't let me stop you.” Chanyeol watched Baekhyun undress, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure you even have the energy for this right now..?”

Baekhyun fumbled with the buttons on his shirt in silence; eventually he got frustrated, pulling it over his head as soon as it was halfway undone and dumping it on the floor. “Probably not. But you’re really sexy, and a massive sweetheart, and I’ve been wanting to get you in bed for a while anyway, so… why not?” He said it in such an airy, carefree way, but there was a crack in his voice that betrayed him, and he was shaking a little, and Chanyeol loved him all the more for it. How sweet it was, that tiny flicker of vulnerability, and how he wished Baekhyun would let him see it more often.

“If you want to, then I want to,” he said quietly, reaching out to grab Baekhyun's hand and kissing it again. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

Baekhyun only smiled at him, squeezing his hand gently, and then he lifted Chanyeol up from his seat, leading him out of the music room and over to his bedroom in silence. He was in no hurry, and before they walked through the door he turned to look at Chanyeol over his shoulder, flirting with only his eyes, doing that sexy lip-biting thing that always made Chanyeol feel like he might burn into a pile of ash, right there on the cream-coloured carpet. When they were inside, Baekhyun closed the bedroom door behind them; Chanyeol didn’t know why, since they were alone, but it did make things seem more private, maybe even a little more special, and he knew then that this was going to end up meaning something for Baekhyun too, and not just for him.

“Nice bed,” Baekhyun said; he sat on the edge of it, bouncing up and down. “Good, firm mattress… always a bonus.”

Chanyeol grinned at him. He felt so overwhelmed with emotion that he knew he was in danger of collapsing, but he was too happy to care. “It does the job.”

Baekhyun got to his feet again, standing right in front of Chanyeol until their toes touched each other. “Arms up,” he said quietly, and Chanyeol obeyed, letting Baekhyun run both hands up the sides of his body, so slow that it was agony, lifting his grey t-shirt over his head. Chanyeol threw the t-shirt on the floor, and then he cradled Baekhyun’s face in both hands, kissing him slowly. “Are you going to teach me the horizontal tango now..?” he whispered, leaning into him with their open mouths pressed together; Baekhyun’s hands were warm on his waist, his fingers slipping inside Chanyeol’s jeans.

“Mmm. Something like that.” Baekhyun struggled again with the button and zipper of Chanyeol's fly, and Chanyeol was about to help him out when it finally came undone. He lowered himself to the floor, sliding the jeans down over Chanyeol’s thighs, pulling them all the way to his ankles. Chanyeol stepped out of them, pushing them to the side with his foot. Baekhyun stood up again, raising himself to the balls of his feet to kiss Chanyeol one more time, both arms thrown loosely around his neck. With both hands on the backs of his thighs, Chanyeol hoisted him up until Baekhyun's legs wrapped around him, staggering under the weight of him for a moment. He dropped him, laughing, onto the bed.

Baekhyun leaned back on his elbows and looked up at Chanyeol, wide-eyed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “What are you going to do to me..?” he whispered.

“Well, first of all, I’m gonna get these useless pants off you.” Chanyeol unzipped Baekhyun's pants, slowly pulled them down, and almost choked when he saw that there was nothing underneath them. Baekhyun just lay there on his bed, ever-so-casually naked, looking so good it actually hurt. “Sorry,” he said, with a mischievous little smile, “I felt like giving the boys some air today.” His body was more or less exactly how Chanyeol had imagined it, toned and smooth and beautiful — until his hungry gaze arrived at Baekhyun’s legs, which were unexpectedly hairy. Chanyeol thought it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen; he had almost no body hair at all, and it made him feel silly and adolescent in comparison, but the way Baekhyun was looking at him seemed to suggest that he also really liked what he saw, and that made him feel better.

“Let me guess. You wanted a bit more ball-room..?” he said, cracking a grin of his own.

Baekhyun winked at him. “You can never have enough ballroom.”

“Oh, I agree.” Chanyeol rummaged around in his underwear drawer for supplies, and was relieved to find a bottle of unflavoured lube in there — none of that embarrassing pink strawberry shit he always used to buy because Jongin liked it. Turning to face Baekhyun again, he dropped his undies and kicked them away. “Alright. How do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” Baekhyun whispered; he stretched out one leg, his foot lightly tracing upwards along the inside of Chanyeol's thigh. “Come here, baby… come and put that beautiful body on mine.”

Chanyeol almost groaned at that. “Why is everything you say so sexy all the time?” He joined Baekhyun on the bed, rolling on top of him, and began kissing him breathless, hearing him laugh and then gasp at the contact between their bodies — _a thousand points of contact,_ Chanyeol thought. Maybe a million points of contact… hearts pounding to the same rhythm, mouth to mouth, skin on skin. All of Baekhyun touching all of him, the way he'd wanted it for so long. “Wow. I’m tingling all over right now,” he whispered, his lips on Baekhyun's neck.

“Me too.” Baekhyun wriggled around beneath him, trying to make himself more comfortable. “But not in a fun way. In an MS way.”

Chanyeol lifted his head, looking down at Baekhyun worriedly. “Um, okay. Should we not do this, then..?”

“Oh, no — we are definitely doing this,” Baekhyun said, pulling Chanyeol's head back down to kiss him. “Pins and needles be damned.”

“Okay. Good,” Chanyeol whispered between kisses, “because I really, _really_ want you.”

Baekhyun smiled into the kiss, his fingers sliding up through Chanyeol’s hair. “You want me even though I sometimes make you Foxtrot until you pass out..?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol said, inhaling sharply when he felt Baekhyun tug on his hair a little. “Even though.”

“Even though my body sucks and doesn't work sometimes..?”

“Your body's perfect.” Chanyeol trailed his lips down over Baekhyun's neck, whispering into his skin; it made Baekhyun shudder a little, his breathing growing heavier. “You have no idea how sexy and beautiful you are.”

Baekhyun laughed softly, already sounding out of breath. “I know I’m a babe… it’s not exactly news to me.”

Chanyeol sighed, resting his head on Baekhyun's chest for a moment. His heart was pounding hard and he felt weak, and whether it was Baekhyun or himself to blame for it, he didn’t know. “I’m sorry. I’m actually feeling pretty nervous right now.” He felt Baekhyun's hand on the back of his head again, stroking him gently.

“Why are you nervous?” Baekhyun’s voice was soft and reassuring, without a trace of mockery. “You know I really want you too, right?”

“Because there’s a good chance I’m going to fall asleep at some crucial moment during this encounter,” Chanyeol whispered, “and I don't want you to think it's because of you.”

Baekhyun laughed softly. “It’s okay — really. I won't mind if you do.”

Chanyeol sighed, turning his head to press a soft kiss to Baekhyun’s chest, and then another. “I just want you to enjoy it, that’s all. I know you’re in a lot of pain, sometimes… I want you to feel really good for once. I want to be the one who makes you feel that way.”

“I’ll enjoy it as long as you enjoy it,” Baekhyun said quietly, still stroking Chanyeol’s hair. “Just relax… don’t put so much pressure on yourself. We’re just two people who really like each other, dancing the horizontal tango together for the first time. It doesn’t have to be perfect." He smirked and said, “just gives us an excuse to keep doing it until we get it right.”

“Alright.” Chanyeol wriggled down a little, pressing his lips upon the softest part of Baekhyun’s stomach. He felt very shy all of a sudden. “Can I kiss you here..?”

“You can kiss me anywhere you want.” Baekhyun rolled his head back against the pillow with a happy sigh. “Why oh why are my stupid hands numb again..?”

“Your hands are beautiful, not stupid.” To make his point, Chanyeol sat up and took one of Baekhyun’s hands, kissing his palm, and then his wrist, and up to his elbow. “You like that?” He kissed all the way up Baekhyun’s arm, trailing more kisses across his shoulder.

Baekhyun licked his lips, tilting his head to one side, which Chanyeol took as an invitation to kiss his neck instead. “Yeah,” he said. “I like it.”

“Good.” Chanyeol kissed his way down Baekhyun’s neck to his chest, teasing a nipple with his tongue. It made Baekhyun squirm against the bed, yelling “that fucking tickles..!”

“Sorry.” Chanyeol smiled against his skin. “Just making a few mental notes on where you’re sensitive and where you’re not… you know, for science.”

“It’s alright.” Baekhyun’s eyes were closed, his breathing laboured; he looked like he was enjoying himself. “I don’t mind being your object of study now and then..”

“You really turn me on,” Chanyeol whispered; it was getting hard to breathe, he wanted this so much. “I feel like I might nut before we even get started.”

Baekhyun just laughed again. He took one of Chanyeol’s hands and began to suck on his fingers, then gently kissed the tips of them afterwards, never once looking away from his eyes. “I know my naked body is making you emotional,” he whispered, “but can we please do something about it..?”

 _“Fuck,”_ Chanyeol swore, groaning at the sight of Baekhyun’s tongue swirling around his thumb.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said, now focusing his attention on kissing the back of Chanyeol’s hand.

Chanyeol swallowed hard. He could feel his eyes beginning to roll back in his head, both from arousal and the fact that he felt close to passing out. “Uh-huh.”

Baekhyun let out a sleepy, breathless little chuckle. “I’m sorry to say this, but I’m kind of exhausted right now. But just so you know, if I’m a bit of a let-down tonight… I assure you that it is due to a lack of energy, and not a lack of enthusiasm.”

Chanyeol leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered. “Just kiss me… that's all I want you to do. Kiss me, and hold me tight, and I'll take care of all the rest. You don't have to worry about a thing.”

“You still haven't told me what you're gonna do to me,” Baekhyun whispered back, his tongue sliding over Chanyeol’s bottom lip.

Chanyeol opened up a little to let him inside. “I don't quite know yet… but if I get an angry note shoved under my front door tonight, I'll consider it a raging success.”

Baekhyun just laughed. “Okay,” he said, “make a lot of noise — got it.” He took Chanyeol’s hand and held it against his body, slowly moving it downwards, whispering, “you wanna warm me up a little..?” Chanyeol nodded, and kissed him again, and then no more words were exchanged between them.

Somewhere in between all the kissing and touching, and Baekhyun's hands all through his hair and his soft whispers of _“want you so bad”_ , Chanyeol lost himself completely; forgot who he was, and where he was, and, eventually, even who he was with. There was only warmth, and darkness, and beautiful sweet oblivion. Then he felt someone’s fingers gently rubbing his scalp, pulling him back into the world he lived in. It felt nice, very soothing, and he lay there for a while with his eyes closed, too boneless to move; he opened his eyes at last, unable to do anything more than let out a quiet whimper. The bed he lay on was moving up and down. The bed was breathing… except it wasn't a bed at all, but someone's body.

Chanyeol lifted his head and saw that Baekhyun was still lying beneath him, looking a little awkward. His eyes met Chanyeol’s, and he smiled.

“Hey there, sleepy-head,” he said wryly. “So glad you could join us..”

Chanyeol just looked at him, blinking the fog in his head away, and then his eyes widened. No. _No._ He didn’t…

He did.

“Aw, shit,” he said, burying his face in Baekhyun's chest. He lifted his head again a second later. “How far did we get? Just curious.”

Baekhyun laughed; he yawned and stretched, wriggled around against the bed and looked unforgivably sexy doing it. “Well, we managed to squeeze a bit of foreplay in… and it felt really nice, too, but then you conked out. It was fun until then.”

“Ugh. What kind of arsehole falls asleep with a naked hottie in his bed?” Chanyeol groaned and returned his head to Baekhyun’s chest, feeling it shudder once again with breathless laughter. His stomach unclenched at the beautiful sound, if only a little.

“My favourite kind of arsehole,” Baekhyun whispered, stroking Chanyeol’s hair. “Hey, it's okay… it was pretty funny.” When Chanyeol dared to look up at him again, he’d gone slightly red in the face. “I’m not laughing at _you_ , I promise. Just at the situation.”

Chanyeol sighed and rolled away from Baekhyun’s body, making himself comfortable beside him. “It's okay.” He smiled to show that he wasn't offended. “I guess sometimes all you can do is laugh, right?”

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up… but you were so sweet. I was tempted to just leave you like that all night, sleeping on my chest like a baby. I could even feel you drooling on me.” Baekhyun cuddled up to Chanyeol, moving his lips to his ear, and then he whispered, “now that you’re awake, though — I’m still in the mood if you are.”

Chanyeol turned his head to the side to steal a quick kiss from Baekhyun, and then another one, a little slower and softer. “You still want me, huh..?”

Baekhyun leaned into him, kissing him harder, whispering _“always”_ into his mouth. So Chanyeol took him in his arms again, and very quickly forgot everything: every thought, every worry, every shred of doubt, every insignificant little fact stored in his brain was lost, momentarily overwritten by everything to do with Baekhyun — his pleas and his sighs, and his warm mouth against Chanyeol’s neck. His sweet laughter and even sweeter lips. Every soft moan was the loveliest song Chanyeol had ever heard, and the temptation to stop kissing Baekhyun so he could sing unhindered was at times too great to resist. Baekhyun showed no signs of weakness that night; his body felt strong and beautiful, the muscle rippling beneath his skin when he arched his back against the bed, and Chanyeol mapped the topography of it with his hands and mouth — soft kisses along Baekhyun’s shoulders and down over his chest, moving down further to kiss his belly and thighs, cupping his arse in luscious handfuls. As for Baekhyun's hands, Chanyeol quickly lost track of them; they were all over him too, and he loved it.

“Who taught you how to move those hips like that?” Baekhyun tilted his head back with a sigh, biting his lip so hard it went from pink to white. “Whoever he is, he deserves a fucking medal.”

Chanyeol just smiled, kissed Baekhyun’s neck and whispered, “will a happy ending do..?”

“Yeah… that’ll do,” Baekhyun said, laughing breathlessly; one of his hands moved to the side of Chanyeol’s face, sliding up into his hair. “Did I say you could stop kissing me..?”

In the minutes that followed, Baekhyun led them both in a different dance entirely, deciding their rhythm by tightening his legs around Chanyeol's body when he wanted to slow down, the next minute panting _“faster”_ into the space between their kisses. “What’s the rush, babe?” Chanyeol murmured, “can’t I enjoy you a little longer?” He couldn’t help all the sweet little things that tumbled from his mouth: about how beautiful Baekhyun was, how sexy and perfect, eventually whispering nothing but _“baby”_ over and over because it was the only thing left that came to mind. He was too breathless to speak properly, so consumed by Baekhyun and how good he felt and the taste of his kisses that he couldn't think straight, could barely think at all — all that remained was pure feeling, an onslaught of sensation and emotion. Baekhyun’s heavy breathing and his whispers of encouragement, his fingernails buried in Chanyeol’s arms and back, the desire burning in his half-closed eyes… all enough for the weathered ruins around Chanyeol's heart to crumble away, at last, into the depths below.

It was a nice change, Chanyeol thought — while he lay there afterwards in the nest of damp, tangled sheets, catching his breath with Baekhyun beside him, their hands loosely joined on the bed between them. A nice change to lose all control, just like this.

Afterwards, consciousness ebbed and flowed like the tide. Chanyeol drifted in and out, even though he was desperate to stay awake. He was entranced by the way Baekhyun looked lying beside him — gorgeous and love-wrecked and satisfied, his skin flushed and glowing; his eyes were closed, but he never lost that secret little smile. Chanyeol watched him with a little smile of his own, refusing to give in to the urge to sleep, no matter how heavy his eyes felt. Anyway, watching Baekhyun come down from the high of their first horizontal tango was far more fascinating than staring at the insides of his own eyelids.

“Admit it… that was the unsexiest sex you’ve ever had,” he said jokingly while they cuddled, with Baekhyun kissing his neck and his chin and his nose and his forehead — being the little tease that he was, he kissed Chanyeol anywhere but on the mouth, regardless of how much he begged for it, moving his head away and laughing whenever Chanyeol tried to steal kisses from him. “It’s alright, I won’t take it personally.”

Baekhyun laughed, his lips now pressed to Chanyeol’s ear. “What are you on about?” he whispered, tracing the lobe with his tongue. “I thought it was really sexy.”

Chanyeol pretended to feel Baekhyun’s forehead for signs of a fever. “Are you feeling okay..?”

“I’m serious!” Baekhyun’s hand found Chanyeol’s, and he squeezed it. “It was so hot. I loved every second.”

“Well, you were making lots of sexy noises, so I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Chanyeol couldn’t help grinning up at the ceiling. “And I didn't fall asleep.”

“And you didn't fall asleep.” Baekhyun rolled on his side to face Chanyeol, still holding his hand, tracing the lines in his palm with the tip of a finger. “There are times when I hate my body for not doing what I want it to do,” he whispered, “but right now, I think I love it.” He brought the hand to his mouth, kissing each of Chanyeol’s fingers in turn, his lips pulled tight in a smile. “You made me feel so good… I never thought I’d feel this good again.”

“You made me feel good too,” Chanyeol said in a quiet voice. They kissed for a little while longer, very softly, and then he wrapped both arms around Baekhyun’s body from behind, holding him close. He began to tap a rhythm into Baekhyun’s skin, using his ribs like piano keys, humming a little tune to himself.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun whispered.

“I’m playing you like my piano.” Chanyeol smiled against the back of his neck. “Now that I know how lovely you sound, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to keep my hands off you.”

Baekhyun was quiet for a moment, and then he let out a little snort of laughter for no discernible reason.

“What’s so funny..?” Chanyeol whispered, his lips now pressed to the back of Baekhyun’s head, kissing it through his hair.

“I was just thinking that your orgasm face is a lot like your piano face,” Baekhyun said.

“That’s… not something I ever wanted to know about myself,” Chanyeol replied drily, “but thanks.“

“When I first saw you standing against the wall that night, I never really thought I’d end up in bed with you,” Baekhyun said. “And I’ve had all these theories on what having sex with you might be like… but I wasn't really expecting to be taken care of like that.”

Chanyeol leaned forward to kiss the tiny freckles on Baekhyun’s shoulders. “Then be mine,” he whispered, “and I’ll take care of you whenever you want.”

Baekhyun turned his head to the side so Chanyeol could kiss his lips instead, his laughter spilling over into Chanyeol’s mouth. “Well, I suppose I could,” he said. “If I must…” And then he laughed again when Chanyeol wrestled him into the mattress, punishing him for this playful half-heartedness. But it was okay, because Chanyeol could tell from the hungry way Baekhyun kissed him that he wanted him just as much; his earlier words echoed in the back of Chanyeol’s mind, _the body never lies_.

“I should go. It’s getting late,” Baekhyun said, when they’d calmed down again. He made a move to get up, sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare back facing Chanyeol. He turned to look over his shoulder and smiled. “I had a lot of fun tonight. We should do this again very soon.”

“No… don’t go.” Drunk on love (although he didn’t yet know his latest poison by name), Chanyeol forgot himself again, and what time it was, and that a world existed outside his bedroom. Right now it felt like the whole universe was within it, and it sat there in front of him, beautiful and naked and breathing, looking back at him with star-filled eyes. “Please,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Baekhyun’s waist, gently pulling him back into bed. “Please stay with me.” He didn’t care how needy he sounded; he just knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep in a bed that smelled like Baekhyun, not if Baekhyun himself wasn’t in there too.

“Hmm…alright, if you insist.” Baekhyun rolled over into Chanyeol's open arms, his head finding its rightful place on his chest. He nuzzled against Chanyeol’s neck, kissing him there. “One more thing, though, before we go to bed…”

“What is it?” Chanyeol whispered, gently stroking Baekhyun’s hair. He smiled. “You wanna cuddle some more?”

“Well, cuddling does sound really nice.” Baekhyun yawned cutely, already sounding on the verge of sleep. “But actually, I was going to say, don’t forget to take your meds.”

_Ah._

“See? Yet another reason why I like you.” Chanyeol smiled and rolled out of bed, giving Baekhyun a quick kiss on the forehead, and then he ran off to the bathroom to do just that.

_xii._

Chanyeol woke up the next morning with Baekhyun in his arms, his head nestled against his chest. Smiling to himself, he stroked Baekhyun's hair, smoothing down the fluffy red tufts with his hands, and let him sleep in longer. Baekhyun stirred a little later and, without even opening his eyes, found Chanyeol's mouth to kiss him, whispering “good morning” in between kisses. Chanyeol pinned him down and kissed him all over his face and neck, making him laugh and wriggle around on the bed; his cheeks were soft, and Chanyeol felt bad that he was a little stubbly himself, but Baekhyun didn’t seem to mind.

It felt wonderful, waking up with someone he already knew he was falling for. He knew he could easily get used to it, waking up like this — and in some ways, that was a frightening thought. But then Baekhyun pulled Chanyeol on top of him again, kissing him so slow and sweet that all unsettling thoughts drifted off like wisps of cloud, leaving only clear skies where they once had been. Chanyeol’s worries were lost again; in Baekhyun's soft, sleepy kisses, and his shy but curious hands, and the warmth of his embrace. Spooning him afterwards, Chanyeol pressed his mouth and nose to the back of Baekhyun’s neck, breathing him in until his lungs couldn't fill anymore; he wrapped one arm around Baekhyun's shoulders, fingers dancing lightly over bare skin.

“What do you want to do today..?” Baekhyun asked, his voice still husky from sleep.

Chanyeol thought about it for a moment. “I want to kiss you. That’s all,” he said, with a playful yet decisive air, and then he leaned forward and covered the side of Baekhyun’s face with a number of wet, noisy little smooches, making him laugh all over again.

“What,” Baekhyun said, already sounding breathless. “All day…?”

“Why not? I love kissing you.” Chanyeol nuzzled Baekhyun’s neck, whispering, “I could kiss you forever and ever, and not get tired of it.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s one idea.” With a happy little sigh, Baekhyun turned his head to the side and let Chanyeol kiss him on the mouth instead. “Why don’t we spend the day together?” he whispered, “just you and me.”

Chanyeol sucked on Baekhyun’s lower lip, pulling on it gently with his teeth. “Don’t you want to practice for tomorrow night..?”

“Maybe later... but I think I've worked you hard enough.” Baekhyun reached behind to slap Chanyeol on the bum, making him flinch; he kept his hand there for a moment before sliding it downwards over Chanyeol’s thigh, giving it a hard squeeze, whispering, “well hello there… whose sexy legs are these?”

“If you're trying to get me out of this bed, you’re going about it the wrong way.” Holding Baekhyun down flat against the bed, Chanyeol kissed along his shoulder and down to his chest; it was one of the most beautiful parts of Baekhyun, he thought — broad and defined, the perfect contrast of soft, milky skin and hard muscle. He kissed one nipple, tracing his tongue around it, making Baekhyun shiver with pleasure in such a way that he could feel it through his own body; he’d discovered he could provoke such a response by kissing Baekhyun in a number of places, but it was especially strong when he kissed his chest and shoulders, the back of his neck, and just about anywhere south of his bellybutton. All those secret little hotspots, and each time he found a new one, it was like finding treasure. It turned Chanyeol on like mad, knowing how sensitive Baekhyun was in certain areas, when his body seemed otherwise plagued by constant numbness; seeing it again now, that gorgeous little shiver, made him ache with longing for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

“Who said I was trying to get you out of bed..?” Baekhyun rolled over until they were facing each other and buried his face against Chanyeol’s neck, wrapping both arms around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s have a nice day out. I think it’ll be a good distraction. I know you’re nervous about tomorrow, and I don’t want you to work yourself up about it.”

Chanyeol, of course, consented to this plan — but only if they could cuddle for a bit longer first, and Baekhyun happily agreed.

Eventually they dragged themselves out of bed to fool around in the shower for a bit, and then they dropped past Baekhyun's place, so he could change his clothes and sort out his own medication for the day. Chanyeol tried to give Baekhyun ample space while he did this; he perched on the edge of the bed, where Baekhyun had told him to sit down and wait, and hoped he wouldn't get in the way. Baekhyun didn't seem at all fazed that he was there — while he bustled around his apartment, washing his hands and getting things ready, he made easy conversation just as he usually would. Then he walked right past Chanyeol to the mirror on the back of his bedroom door; turning his back toward it, he dropped his pants (no underwear again, Chanyeol noticed) and dabbed a spot on his backside with an alcohol swab, then stuck a needle full of clear fluid into himself with barely a grimace. He dropped the empty needle into a plastic container on the floor, covered the puncture with a bandaid and yanked his pants back up — all of this achieved in only a minute or two. “Alright,” he said, “let's go.”

“How the hell do you do that by yourself?” Chanyeol asked, when they were in the lift on their way down to the ground floor. He was impressed by the efficiency of the whole operation.

Baekhyun just laughed at the question. “Well, no one else is going to do it for me, so I kind of haven't got a choice,” he said. “It’s not me being brave or anything, it’s just a necessity.”

“I guess. Doesn't it hurt, though?” Suddenly all his weird medications and their shitty side-effects didn't seem so bad to Chanyeol.

Baekhyun shrugged. “Only a little. They recommend you to do it in the upper thigh, but I find the bum a bit easier for muscular injections. I had a nurse at the hospital teach me how to do it properly, and now it doesn’t really bother me at all.”

“And you have to do that every day…?” Chanyeol shuddered at the thought. He wasn't a fan of needles.

“Nope… I have the choice of a subcutaneous injection every two days, or injecting into a muscle once a week. Then I have to go to the hospital every few months for a steroid infusion, and the rest are just boring old pills.” Baekhyun took out his phone to check the time; stuffing it back into his pocket, he grabbed Chanyeol's hand and said, “the next bus comes in two minutes. We'd better run for it.”

They spent the rest of their Saturday morning walking up to the top of Hill 60, chasing each other around the lighthouse. They danced together in the brief spell of light summer rain that came around eleven o’clock, not for the sake of rehearsing but purely for the pleasure of it — first the Waltz and then the Quickstep, and then the Foxtrot, laughing and slipping around on the wet grass, paying no mind to anyone who witnessed their easy affection. Baekhyun was in fine form that day, able to move around freely, and it was a beautiful thing to see; he even did a cartwheel barely a few metres from the cliff's edge, which gave Chanyeol a mini heart-attack, but he thankfully recovered quickly. From their vantage point up on the cliff, Baekhyun pointed excitedly toward a pair of humpback whales out at sea, a mother and her baby; huge, glistening grey bodies, the sun shining on their backs as they breached, disappearing again into the foamy water. Chanyeol saw their dark shadows as they moved gracefully beneath the surface, with the occasional fin or fluke slicing through the waves, columns of spray bursting forth when they came up for air.

“Check out them blowholes,” Baekhyun said; he stood there with his hand held up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun, the wind blowing his fiery hair all over his face.

“Your blowhole’s better.” Chanyeol gave Baekhyun’s butt a playful slap — on the side that hadn’t had a needle jabbed into it, since he was considerate like that. When they turned to walk back down the hill, he thought he saw Baekhyun smiling to himself.

The weather cleared up again after midday, and they sat together on the beach and had fish and chips, with Chanyeol throwing the shitty little burnt chips to the seagulls, and Baekhyun squawking at him in indignation because “those are the crunchy ones, you dong!” He chatted non-stop while they ate, talking so much about nothing important that Chanyeol leaned over to stuff a chunk of battered flathead into his mouth, and then laughed so hard at the resulting look of surprise and bemusement that he nearly passed out on the sand.

“Why's it called ‘Hill 60’, anyway?” Chanyeol grabbed a handful of chips and shovelled them in. “Where’s Hill 61 at?”

“Dunno,” Baekhyun said with his mouth full. He licked the salt from his fingers, sucking absently on his thumb for a second or two, his eyes cast out to sea.

“Aren't you the one who grew up here?”

Baekhyun reached over for more chips. “Yeah, but... I really don't know. I think it’s named after a famous battle or something like that. Something to do with the War.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while afterwards, and Baekhyun rested his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder for a moment. It was a beautiful day, one of the more beautiful days Chanyeol could remember; probably the most beautiful day of his life so far. Was that a big call to make? When he looked at Baekhyun sitting beside him in the sand, staring contentedly out at the ocean with the sun shining on his lovely face and the breeze ruffling his hair, he didn’t think it was. He could only hope there were going to be many more days just like this one.

At some point he must have dozed off, because Baekhyun patted him on the head, waking him up. “You okay there, sleepy…?”

“Yep,” Chanyeol murmured, “just really happy.” He lay down with his head in Baekhyun's lap, and Baekhyun stroked his hair while he had a little kip; he woke up every now and then to the sound of crashing waves, and the odd seagull shrieking up above, and Baekhyun singing something to himself. Chanyeol knew he could have stayed that way forever.

“Isn’t it such a nice day?” Baekhyun said quietly. “I haven't had a day this nice in so long.”

Chanyeol tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn. He didn’t want Baekhyun to think he was bored when he was just sleepy, as usual. “I’m having a whale of a time.” Baekhyun smiled and continued to stroke his hair without another word.

“You have beautiful teeth,” Chanyeol said, gazing up at him from the comfort of his lap. “Is it weird that I look at them sometimes and want to kiss them?”

Baekhyun gave Chanyeol a funny look and laughed. “You want to kiss my teeth..?”

“I want to kiss you everywhere,” Chanyeol whispered. “Maybe I’ll do that again tonight, if you want me to.”

Baekhyun’s eyes flickered away, and Chanyeol wondered if he was blushing, but the sun made it hard to tell. “I really love your eyes, as well,” he said. “I love the way you flirt with them, without even having to say anything. You can make me want you so bad with only a glance in my direction; no one’s ever had that kind of power over me before.”

“I’m not used to all these compliments,” Baekhyun replied, doing that sexy lip-bite smile he always did.

“Well, you'd better get used to them. There'll be plenty more as long as I’m around.” Chanyeol lifted himself up from Baekhyun’s lap, and then he pushed him down onto the sand and kissed him on the mouth, very softly; tracing Baekhyun’s lips with his tongue, he shifted on top of him to get more comfortable, their bodies briefly rubbing against each other. Baekhyun rolled his head back on the sand, letting out a soft gasp of surprise, and the sound of it was so sexy that it sent a little shiver down Chanyeol’s spine.

“Please,” Baekhyun whispered, laughing into their kisses. “We’re in public, you sex freak..”

Chanyeol moved his lips down over Baekhyun’s neck instead, smiling against his skin. “What the hell is a sex freak…?”

Baekhyun pushed him off, gently but firmly, and then he sat up to lean on his elbows, already looking beautifully disheveled. He bit his lip, apparently thinking about something. “Come for a walk with me,” he said at last, getting to his feet and brushing the sand off himself. “I’ll show you something cool.” He took Chanyeol on a walk to where the sand ended and the rocks began, leading him by the hand so he wouldn’t stumble. They came across a hole cut into the face of the cliff, with an iron grating fitted over the entrance; two of the bars had been bent open, and the gap looked just wide enough to squeeze through.

“What is it?” Chanyeol asked, peering into the darkness, his head cocked to one side like a curious puppy.

“It’s a tunnel. Leads to an old underground bunker,” Baekhyun said.

“And what's in there now?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I don't know… probably nothing. We used to go in there all the time when we were kids, and then they barred it off because people kept sneaking in there to do drugs and have sex and stuff. But now someone’s gone and bent them apart anyway.” He stood right in front of the tunnel’s dank, gaping mouth, his fingers curled around the iron bars. “Call me nuts, but I kind of want to go in.”

“Call me nuts too, then,” Chanyeol said, and Baekhyun turned his head to look at him, his face lit up by a mischievous grin.

“Ooh,” he whispered, “I _do_ like a rebel.”

They slipped between the bent bars of the grate without much difficulty and walked into the tunnel, using their phones as torches. There were track lines built into the floor — probably for moving carts filled with military equipment, Baekhyun explained. Stuff written all over the walls: mostly insulting scribbles about foreigners and the government, a few flowery declarations of love. Scraps of poetry here and there, interspersed with crudely-drawn boobs and dicks and things. _‘AE 4 TP’_ written inside a wonky heart. _‘Sean Evans is a cunt.’ ‘Wogs & asians go back where u came from.’ ‘Tim fucked me against this wall on 4/7/09 and it was gr8.’_ Sand and grit crunched noisily underfoot; other than that, only the sound of dripping and the roar of the ocean in the background. The tunnel smelled of nothing in particular. It just smelled cold and damp, as if cold and damp were actual smells.

“Here, look at this,” Baekhyun whispered; he traced his index finger over a short verse written on the rocky wall in neat cursive. He read it aloud: “ _A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day. - E.D._. Interesting.” He kept walking ahead into the darkness, humming quietly to himself. Chanyeol followed close behind. Something gnawed at him as they walked further along, waves of unease lapping at the inside of his stomach, rising ever higher. Some parts of the walls looked like they'd been scraped by people's fingernails. Brown stains dripping down — were they blood? Maybe coming here was a bad idea. But Baekhyun seemed unconcerned by the eeriness of the place. He wasn't easily rattled, Chanyeol thought, by anything… just took it all in his stride, even on those days when it was slow and pained and a bit lopsided. _Little lion-heart._

“You can still feel, it can't you,” Baekhyun said quietly, as though reading Chanyeol’s thoughts. “The uneasiness of this place… almost like it’s cemented into the walls.”

Chanyeol reached out and grabbed Baekhyun’s hand, gently linking their fingers together. “Not anymore,” he whispered, smiling when Baekhyun turned to look at him. At one point when they were walking hand in hand, he nearly opened his mouth to blurt out ‘I think I love you’, but then saved himself at the very last second. He’d say it later, he thought, somewhere a bit nicer than this… maybe up on top of the hill with the sun rising over the beach, if he could haul Baekhyun out of bed that early. It was a shame it didn't set over the sea here.

They only walked part of the way through the tunnel before they stopped because it was too dark and creepy, and then they made their way back towards the circle of blue sky that was the entrance. They were silent for most of the time, communicating only by squeezing each other's hands and with the occasional friendly slap on the arse. When they were almost at the beginning again, Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol up against the cold, damp wall and kissed him until he was breathless, making him completely forget for a while that respiration was a necessary bodily function.

Baekhyun pulled away at last, looking up into Chanyeol’s eyes, searching them for something. “What are you thinking about..?”

“What am I thinking about?” Chanyeol paused for a moment, teasing Baekhyun with the answer; he dangled it out of reach for a while before letting him have it. “If you must know… I’m thinking about how beautiful you look when you're naked.” He grinned at the way Baekhyun's eyebrows shot up at his response. “It's much easier now that I have a mental image, but that also makes it harder to stop.”

Baekhyun laughed at that. “Fair enough,” he said, but there was a sparkle of something in his eyes that Chanyeol could see clear as day, even in this place that the sun had forgotten.

“What is it about kissing in forbidden places?” Chanyeol whispered while they kissed again, their hands roaming over and under each other’s clothes — no one was there to see them, anyway, so they weren’t shy about it. “Why is it always twice as thrilling..?”

“I want to kiss all of _your_ forbidden places,” Baekhyun whispered back; he moved Chanyeol's t-shirt aside, sucking a kiss into the spot where his neck met his shoulder.

“Shhh. I'm trying to share a romantic moment with you, and you’re being a pervert. Don't ruin it for me.”

Baekhyun let out a little squawk of indignant laughter. “You were the one picturing me naked, and trying to dry-hump me on a public beach, and _I'm_ being a pervert…?”

“Yes, you are.” Chanyeol leaned his head back against the wall with his eyes closed, biting his lip to hold back a groan of pleasure. “But I think I like it.” He smiled and said, “my little perv.”

“But baby,” Baekhyun whispered, his teeth gently grazing Chanyeol’s skin; something about the way he said the word _baby_ made Chanyeol’s toes curl inside his shoes.

“But what..?”

Baekhyun’s lips moved up to Chanyeol’s ear; Chanyeol felt two hands pushing his shirt up to caress his stomach, before moving around to the small of his back. “But we’re all alone right now, and I want you.”

“Well, then,” Chanyeol whispered, gently pushing him off, “you’ll just have to wait until later.” He grabbed Baekhyun’s hand, swinging him playfully by the arm. “Come on, pervy. Let’s go back to the beach.”

Baekhyun pouted all the way back, just as Chanyeol knew he would, grumbling cute things like “who knew a sunny sunflower like you could be so mean..?”

“Patience, babe.” Chanyeol grinned at him, lightly swatting him on the bum when he stormed off ahead. “You already know I'm going to give it all up for you when we get home.”

“My home or your home?” Baekhyun walked along with his arms held out for balance, stepping nimbly over loose rocks and pools of water. Chanyeol saw several tiny crabs scuttling into crevices in the rock to avoid him.

“Either,” he said. “I guess it doesn't matter.”

So they ended up at Chanyeol’s place again. His bedroom still smelled like them, even hours later. The bed looked sad and empty; it had only been one night, and already Chanyeol didn't know how he was ever going to go back to sleeping alone. But then Baekhyun came up behind him, wrapped both arms around his waist and kissed the back of his shoulder, and he knew it was something he at least didn't have to worry about tonight.

“Be gentle with me,” he said to Baekhyun when they went to bed, only pretending to be coy when he was, in reality, just nervous — nervous about handing Baekhyun the reins, about the vulnerability that would entail... most of all, about staying awake. But the way Baekhyun looked at him — like he'd just been given the world's best present and didn't know what to do with himself — was the sweetest thing ever, and also very sexy, and it soon put Chanyeol’s mind at ease.

Baekhyun just stood there for a moment with his eyes on Chanyeol’s body, unable to tear them away. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I’ll take good care of you.” Lowering himself onto the bed, he shimmied down a little and pressed his face against Chanyeol’s stomach, kissing the part where it was most rounded. “You're so soft here. I really like it.”

“I’m sorry I don't have sweet abs like you,” Chanyeol said. “Flabs, on the other hand... those I do have.”

Baekhyun laughed. “I hardly even have abs anymore. I’ve been letting myself go,” he said, kissing a circle around Chanyeol’s bellybutton. “Anyway, I like flabs better. They’re so much nicer to kiss.” He moved upwards again to kiss Chanyeol on the lips instead, whispering, “but I love your lips the most.” Sometimes he paused, teasing Chanyeol by breathing into his mouth, dipping his tongue inside for barely a second, and then laughing wickedly when Chanyeol got frustrated and whined about it. He sat up on the bed, gazing at Chanyeol with a soft expression, his hair falling over one eye. He lifted a hand to flick it away.

Chanyeol smiled up at him. “What’s that look for..?”

“Just because,” Baekhyun said. His expression remained solemn, but there was something tender about it at the same time. “Because you’re beautiful. And I want to remember what you look like right now, so I can think about you the next time I’m having a shit day, and maybe it’ll make me smile.”

“Mmm. I’ve put on quite a bit of weight in the past few years,” Chanyeol said, drumming a little beat into his belly with both hands. “Narcolepsy slows down the old metabolism.”

Baekhyun picked up one of Chanyeol’s hands and softly kissed the back of it. “I think you're just right,” he whispered.

“Just Right, huh... like the cereal,” Chanyeol mused, trying to hold back a yawn. “Can I be Froot Loops instead? I hate raisins. Damn it, now I'm hungry.”

“Are you? Well, you'll just have to wait.” Baekhyun was sucking Chanyeol’s fingers again — he seemed to have a thing for it, and Chanyeol wasn’t about to complain. “I’m not letting you leave this bed until I’ve eaten you first.”

Chanyeol laughed, and every muscle in his body went slack, but only for a moment. He swallowed and said, “that might take a while… there’s a lot of me.”

“Good. More to love.” Baekhyun let go of Chanyeol’s hand, still wet with his saliva, and wiped it dry on the covers. He settled on top of Chanyeol again, burying his face against his neck, singing _‘all I wanna do is make love to you’_ in a voice muffled by kisses.

“Eww, I hate that song,” Chanyeol said, laughing again. “Stop making me laugh… I’m gonna pass out.”

Baekhyun laughed along with him. “Sorry — worst song ever, I know. But good for drunken karaoke.”

Chanyeol tilted his head back against the pillow; he could very well have gone to sleep right then and there, but he fought the urge with everything he had — there was no way he was going to miss this. “Well, I’m all yours. Do me as you see fit.”

“Oh my,” Baekhyun whispered, his hot breath tickling Chanyeol’s neck. “Whatever will I do with such freedom..?”

Chanyeol shivered at the sound of that beautiful voice in his ear, low and sweet and heavy with desire. “I was kind of thinking…” he paused for a moment, swallowing hard against the tightness in his throat. “I was thinking that maybe I'd like to be yours for longer, actually… like as an indefinite sort of arrangement.” He covered his face as soon as he said it, mortified about spouting something that huge so prematurely, until he felt warm hands on top of his own, gently moving them away. He looked up to see Baekhyun gazing down at him; he picked up one of Chanyeol's hands again and held it against his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment, and then he softly kissed the palm of it.

“Well,” he whispered, “I think we can definitely work something out.” He leaned down to kiss Chanyeol on the lips at last, and Chanyeol let out a long exhale into his mouth, like he’d been waiting forever. He wrapped both arms around Baekhyun’s shoulders to hold him closer, every kiss longer and deeper than the one before it. It was a quiet sort of affair, with only the sounds of their breathing and the rain drumming against the bedroom window; they didn't really speak much, leaving their bodies to do the talking. There was time to let their hands wander; to touch, to kiss slowly, to pause every now and then and look into each other's eyes. It was a different kind of horizontal tango, the build-up so deliciously slow that it was maddening, and for a while Chanyeol just lay there, almost too overwhelmed to breathe, savouring the feeling of Baekhyun's hands and lips all over his body.

“Tell me what feels good, baby,” Baekhyun whispered, with his mouth on Chanyeol's ear. He followed the spiral of it with the tip of his tongue, his breath on Chanyeol’s neck making him break out in goosebumps. In response, Chanyeol took Baekhyun’s hand out from beneath his head and held it to his own throat; he’d never asked anyone to do that before, but he really wanted it then, wanted it so badly for reasons he couldn’t explain. Just one moment of complete surrender — of everything, even the breath in his lungs, _all for you._ The sensation when Baekhyun put that pretty hand around him — gently at first, and then, at his request, squeezing a little harder — was like a wave washing over him; like being pulled under and held down until his mind grew hazy, watching the sand cloud around him through half-closed eyes, then finally floating up again, lungs flooding with sweet air. There was no panic; just a strange sense of otherworldly peace like the kind he felt when he was underwater, everything bathed in the calm greenish glow of the sunlight filtering through the surface. How strange to be drowning, and feel so alive.

The soft press of Baekhyun's mouth on Chanyeol’s brought him back, breathing deeply into him; their hands found each other again, fingers linking together on the bed beside them. The warm weight of Baekhyun’s body rolled over him like the gentle sea, and relief came slowly at first, in waves, before crashing into him all at once; he felt Baekhyun shudder all through him with the force of it, whispering _“my love”_ against Chanyeol's lips, before folding on top of him, exhausted and content. He hummed to himself while they held each other in the darkness a little later, trailing tiny kisses along the edge of Chanyeol’s jaw, occasionally pressing one to the corner of his mouth. “I think you just took _my_ breath away,” he whispered, and Chanyeol wanted to say “now you know how I feel,” but he was too sleepy to form the words. The last thing he remembered was feeling Baekhyun's breath fanning over his chest, gradually slowing down as he drifted off to sleep, his head resting right above Chanyeol's heart.

_xiii._

As good a distraction as it was at the time, the afterglow of a beautiful Saturday spent together couldn't dull the edges of Chanyeol's nerves about the following day's performance. Waking up the next morning to an empty bed and a handwritten note left on his pillow didn't help. In the note, Baekhyun explained that he didn’t want to wake Chanyeol because he looked like he really needed the sleep, but he would come past later that afternoon to pick him up before the concert. Chanyeol finished reading it and flopped back onto his bed with outstretched arms, like a child making a snow angel, the tiny piece of paper flitting away from his fingers. He rolled around helplessly for a while, longing for Baekhyun, for his cuddles and sweet kisses, feeling the loss of his warmth already.

When he went into the kitchen to get a glass of water for his pills, he saw that Baekhyun had made him breakfast — a stack of pancakes, which he'd left on a plate on the bench. They looked and smelled delicious, and within seconds Chanyeol felt his mouth watering. Baekhyun had also arranged all the magnets on the fridge into a smiley face, and had left another note pinned beneath one of them that read _‘don't worry, be happy’_ , followed by a tiny heart.

Chanyeol stood there at the bench and ate his breakfast, smiling at the little note the whole time.

***

The backstage area of the concert hall was chaos — there was no other way to describe it. All those people rushing around half-dressed, clouds of hairspray, make-up smeared everywhere. A flurry of tulle and feathers, sparkling sequins, flashes of blinding colour and glitter stuck to absolutely everything. Chanyeol had never witnessed a spectacle so dazzlingly, jaw-droppingly intimidating before in his life.

Baekhyun stood in front of a mirror, doing his make-up. He was dressed in a perfectly fitted black tuxedo, one he’d saved from his competition days — or ‘those days of yore’, as he called them with some irony, as if they were long ago and legendary. His hair was swept up off his forehead and he looked even more handsome than he usually did, which Chanyeol hadn’t thought possible until he’d first laid eyes on him earlier that afternoon. Chanyeol had hired his performance outfit, since all of the suits he owned were either grey, or navy, or a little too tight to move around freely, or had been worn to the funerals of extended family members — there was no way in hell he’d wear a funeral suit to dance in. It just seemed like an extremely unlucky thing to do, and he needed all the luck he could get right now.

“I know it’s terrible timing, but I’m having serious second thoughts,“ he whispered to Baekhyun — who was now busy lining his eyes with a black kohl pencil. He was sweating in places he didn't know he could sweat, and the anxiety was making him sleepy, which was an even bigger problem. He could only hope that the adrenaline would kick in at the right time and get him through, without him making an idiot of both of them; but the more Chanyeol thought about it, the more it seemed like this would require a heavenly miracle.

Baekhyun capped the eyeliner pencil and dropped it back into his make-up case. He turned away from the mirror to face Chanyeol, fixing his bow tie with a gentle expression. “Why are you so worried? You’ve been great over the past few practices — practically perfect, in fact. You’ve worked really hard for this, and it shows. And you know I’m not one to hand out compliments if they’re not deserved.”

“I’m just not sure I can do this on my own, without tanking half-way through,” Chanyeol whispered. “That’s all.”

Baekhyun just smiled and grabbed Chanyeol by both of his hands. “You’re not on your own, dumbo… you’re with me. Anyway, you think _I'm_ here doing this on my own? I'm constantly fumbling around in the dark with my health situation, just like you are.” He paused to smooth out the satin lapels on Chanyeol’s jacket, still with that tender look in his eyes. “But I came here tonight hoping for the best, because sometimes hoping for the best is all I have. And even if things go a bit pear-shaped… well, it's okay. I just want to get up on that stage and dance with someone I really care about. That’s all I came here to do.”

When he’d finished speaking, Baekhyun looked up at Chanyeol, smiled, and stood on his toes to kiss him. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, whispering against Chanyeol’s lips. He kissed him once more, throwing both arms around his neck. “It’s only a silly concert. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

Chanyeol smiled into the kiss, his hands coming to rest on either side of Baekhyun’s waist. “Me too.”

“And anyway, if all else fails, just make ‘em laugh.” Baekhyun bopped Chanyeol on the end of the nose with his finger.

Chanyeol gave him a withering look in return. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t,” he said, but Baekhyun just laughed.

“Come on, you know I’m only joking.” Now he was fixing Chanyeol’s hair, combing it into place with his fingers; Chanyeol would have told him to stop, but truthfully he loved it when Baekhyun fussed over him. “Now remember, we're here to have fun. We've practised both of these dances so many times that I’m sure you could do them both blindfolded, if you had to. You can do this, I promise.”

Maybe Baekhyun was right, Chanyeol thought, his mood brightening a little when Baekhyun reached out to hold his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it was one of those things where simply believing in himself would be enough, even if he did feel woefully unprepared. “I think I’ll just pop into the bathroom and splash some water on my face,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth. “Thanks, babe… I feel a lot better now. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“Okay. See you in a bit.” Baekhyun smiled and waved him off. Chanyeol walked a couple of steps backwards, and watched his new boyfriend standing there, strong and still in the whirlwind of colour and movement. How beautiful he was, how he glowed with happiness… and what a lovely picture it made, even without Chanyeol in it. Tearing his eyes away took some effort, and he turned around and headed for the bathroom.

Afterwards, feeling refreshed and slightly more prepared to face his fears, Chanyeol rejoined Baekhyun backstage, where they would wait to be called out for their first dance. They were only second up to perform, and Chanyeol knew he wouldn't have a lot of time to be nervous about it. The Foxtrot was to be the first of their two performances for the evening — “we’ll work our way up to the hard stuff,” Baekhyun said. They looked on while a couple from the intermediate class performed an energetic version of the Jive; Chanyeol stood at the edge of the stage, peering out through the curtain, with Baekhyun standing just behind him. He knew his friends were out there somewhere; the stage lights were so bright he couldn't really make out the faces of anyone in the audience, but that was probably for the best. He felt a warm hand grabbing hold of his own, and wished he'd wiped his hands on his trousers first, since they were slippery with sweat. “When we’re out there, look only at me,” Baekhyun whispered in his ear. “Pretend it's just the two of us, and you'll be fine.”

Chanyeol looked down at his boogie shoes, saw the stars on his toes and felt lucky. He met Baekhyun’s eye and smiled. Baekhyun smiled back at him and squeezed his hand, and although Chanyeol still felt like his stomach would fall out of his bum, something about those lovely little crinkles at the corners of Baekhyun's eyes settled him, made him feel much calmer. He took a deep breath and went back to watching the couple in front of them, swallowing thickly when he saw them taking their bows at the end of their performance.

As soon as they were introduced, Baekhyun led Chanyeol out onto the stage to the sound of applause, cheering and wolf-whistles from the audience. He turned his head to meet Chanyeol's eye, winking at him, and they stood side by side with their arms outstretched, holding each other by the hand. Baekhyun twirled in until they were facing each other, and they began to dance; Chanyeol's beginning steps were tentative, but as he got used to the feeling of being on stage and his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he got more and more into it. He counted the steps in his head at first, but he quickly forgot about counting altogether; Baekhyun was right — everyone and everything in the room seemed to fade away, and then he stopped feeling the floor beneath them, like walking on a dream. It was just the two of them now, him and Baekhyun, with his starry eyes and beautiful smile. He never looked away as long as they were facing each other, and all of Chanyeol's fears seemed to melt into non-existence. He was only aware of Baekhyun's warm hand on his shoulder, and his own hand on Baekhyun’s back, lightly tracing his shoulder-blade through his jacket. Looking deep into Chanyeol’s eyes, Baekhyun mouthed the words to the song. He couldn’t stop smiling.

_‘Some day, when I'm awfully low_

_When the world is cold_

_I will feel a glow just thinking of you,_

_And the way you look tonight’_

Chanyeol dipped Baekhyun gently, still looking into his eyes. Baekhyun smiled out at the audience until Chanyeol lifted him back up, and their eyes met again; those beautiful eyes, so dark and hypnotic. Two steps back, two to the side. The warmth of Baekhyun’s body as Chanyeol held him close; a body he’d had become intimate with in ways he'd never thought possible back when they first met.

_‘With each word, your tenderness grows,_

_Tearing my fear apart_

_And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,_

_It touches my foolish heart’_

Chanyeol couldn’t keep it to himself any longer; he leaned in with his lips to Baekhyun's ear and whispered _“I love you.”_ He couldn’t tell if Baekhyun heard him over the music, but his smile seemed even brighter after that. They held their hands out to the side, both their heads turning to face the audience, promenading toward the edge of the stage. Chanyeol quickly scanned the sea of faces until he saw his friends, sitting in the centre of the hall, several rows from the front: Amber, Jongdae, Joohyun and Kibum, they were all there. But there was someone else, too, sitting right in the middle of them all — a young man with dark hair falling over his face, plump lips curved into a smile, his gaze focused on Chanyeol.

Jongin? No… it couldn’t be. But it was, and Chanyeol inhaled so sharply that he felt it all the way down to his buckling knees.

_‘Lovely, don’t you ever change_

_Keep that breathless charm’_

Baekhyun's smile faded, his expression switching to one of confusion. Chanyeol stumbled and fell backwards, pulling Baekhyun down with him, and the audience, who until then had been cheering and clapping, fell into a deafening silence. The only sound left was the music, a once tender song mutating into something haunting and sinister, the words _‘my foolish heart’_ echoing inside Chanyeol's head. He could feel Baekhyun stirring on top of him, letting out a little groan of pain, but he was exhausted, too weak to move or say anything. Every atom of his existence screamed for sleep.

_Please, just let me sleep._

When he opened his eyes, he was sitting on the sand down at the beach. Baekhyun was a little way along, dancing by himself on the edge of the shore, the sea lapping at his ankles. As he watched Baekhyun dance alone, a feeling of grief washed over Chanyeol, so profound that he was paralysed by it; the further Baekhyun moved away, the worse it got, a sorrow so unbearable that he found it hard to breathe. He tried to get up to follow Baekhyun, anything to make that terrible feeling go away, but it kept doubling him over, his own despair tripping him up until all he could do was crawl over the sand on his hands and knees, reaching out to desperately grab at thin air, a vain attempt to pull Baekhyun back towards him. _Come back._ Icy seawater soaked into his clothes, and he shivered with the chill of it. Baekhyun only continued to dance away from him, following the line of the shore, his footprints fast disappearing in the wet sand.

_Come back._

“Chanyeol…”

And there was a voice in his ear, so close… and yet, curiously, it sounded so far away.

“Chanyeol, can you hear me?”

Chanyeol could feel someone’s fingers running through his hair. He knew right away that it wasn't Baekhyun; the way Baekhyun stroked his hair was different. There was tenderness in everything he did, in every way he handled Chanyeol, and whoever was touching him now didn’t have that same tenderness. He didn't want to wake up, but consciousness already had him by the ankles. It hauled him out from the depths, leaving him gasping on the shore.

“Maybe we should leave him.” It was Amber's voice — Chanyeol would recognise that voice anywhere. But she sounded strange, like she was speaking from underwater. “Let him sleep for a little while or something.”

“He can't sleep here, Amber.” That sounded like Jongdae. Chanyeol stirred, let out a weak groan and opened his eyes, squinting to adjust to the brightness of the lights. There was a crystal chandelier hanging directly above him, and what felt like velvet beneath his fingertips. He wanted to ask where the hell he was, but he couldn’t speak.

“He’s waking up. Chanyeol, are you alright..?”

Chanyeol waited until his lips could form the words before mumbling his reply. “Mmm. What happened..?”

“You collapsed on stage.” Another voice Chanyeol recognised, but hadn’t heard in a while. “We carried you out into the lobby.” Chanyeol turned his head to the side, and saw Jongin kneeling next to the velvet armchair he’d woken up in. He had one hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder. The hand felt abnormally heavy, and Chanyeol wanted to shrug it off, but he was too weak. His friends all stood around the chair, peering down at him with concerned expressions.

Chanyeol’s gaze finally landed on Baekhyun, who stood at his feet, looking shattered. He rubbed his eyes, blinking at the blurred figure in front of him. “Baek,” he whispered, “we’re going to miss our Rumba…”

“I don’t think you’re in the best condition to get back up on stage, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said quietly. “But it’s okay. At least we tried.”

Chanyeol let this news sink in for a moment. He covered his face with his hands, peering at Baekhyun through the spaces between his fingers. “I’m so sorry. I’ve fucked everything up, haven’t I..?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “Not at all,” he said with a gentle smile. “You did your best. And you were really good while you were up there. It’s just bad luck, that's all.”

As soon as Baekhyun said this, Jongin leaned over the side of the chair, throwing both his arms around Chanyeol’s shoulders and nearly squeezing the life from him. “I’m so happy to see you, Yeol… I’ve missed you so much.”

“What are you even doing here..?” It occurred to Chanyeol after he said this that it perhaps sounded a little harsh, but it was an honest question. Jongin pulled away from him, looking taken aback at his reaction. “I left the Company,” he said quietly. “I came back here for you.”

Chanyeol frowned; something about Jongin being there didn’t add up in his brain. “But… why? We’re not even together anymore… we haven’t been together for ages.”

“Ouch.” Jongin looked a bit hurt. “You could have let me down a tad more gently, you know.”

Chanyeol tried to sit upright, but he felt too weak, and only ended up collapsing against the velvet cushion again. “I kinda thought that was implied when you moved to the other side of the world,” he said, making no effort to hide his irritation. “But I don’t know, maybe that's just me.”

“Well… I was sort of hoping you might change your mind if I came home for you,” Jongin said, biting his lip — and Baekhyun, who had been unusually quiet until then, turned on his heel and stalked off, his dancing shoes clacking on the marble floor. With whatever strength he had left, Chanyeol lunged up out of the chair and stumbled after him, forgetting about Jongin and his friends entirely. “Baek, wait. _Wait_.”

Baekhyun led him outside the concert hall, and then he spun around so quickly that Chanyeol nearly fell backwards in surprise. He said nothing, but his mouth was twisted and he was breathing so hard his chest was heaving, the expression on his face so quietly furious that it seemed to dare Chanyeol to speak, and Chanyeol found he had nothing to say. He had never seen Baekhyun that angry before, and clearly it had been a blessing — the sight before him right now was mildly terrifying.

“So,” Baekhyun said, when he was finally able to spit words out. “All that _bullshit_ about wanting me to be your boyfriend, when you already had one the whole time. What a nice surprise.”

“Baekhyun, I didn’t know,” Chanyeol tried to explain. “He moved to London several months ago. I had no idea he was coming back.”

“But you never broke it off.” Baekhyun was so mad that he was shaking. “He still thinks you’re together — I heard it with my own ears, so don’t you fucking dare try to deny it.”

Chanyeol’s arms fell helplessly by his sides. “I’m sorry… I just took it for granted that I wasn't going to see him again. I never signed up for anything long-distance. He’s delusional if he thinks I agreed to that.”

Baekhyun laughed; it sounded manic, far from the joyous sound Chanyeol had fallen in love with. “Well, _he_ seems to think it’s still on… so which one is it? What’s the truth, Chanyeol? Because keeping your illness from me was one thing; I can understand that. But I’m not sure this is something I can deal with.”

“He _left_ me,” Chanyeol cried. “I don't _want_ him, Baek. I never asked him to come back!”

Baekhyun just shook his head and muttered, “you really did play me, huh… like your fucking piano.”

What was worse than having the words he’d said in a tender moment thrown back in his face? Chanyeol plopped down on the low brick wall surrounding the concert hall’s front garden, already feeling weak with devastation. Baekhyun remained standing where he was, without looking at him. He let out a long, loud exhale through his nostrils, but said nothing for several minutes.

“What am I to you?” he said at last, in a quiet voice. “Tell me the truth.”

“I thought you were my boyfriend, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol stared numbly at the ground; his heart was about to break again, at any moment — he could already tell. He knew all too well what that felt like by now. “I really want to be with you… that’s the honest truth. But if you don't want to anymore, then I can't make you.” Maybe the way he said it was too flat, too unfeeling. But now wasn't the time to be ruled by his emotions. He already knew the consequences of letting that happen.

“I’m not sure what I want anymore.” Baekhyun's voice was cracked, like he was about to cry. “But I don't think this is it.”

“Tell me something, please,” Chanyeol said quietly. “Earlier, when we were dancing, and I told you that I loved you… did I dream that, or was it real?”

Baekhyun looked at him then, his eyes shining like they always did — not with happiness, this time, but with what looked like tears. “I heard no such thing,” he whispered, and then he turned around and walked away. Chanyeol couldn't bring himself to follow him. Even if he did, he now felt so frail that he knew he would probably go down after only a couple of steps.

Amber and Jongdae both hurried over a few seconds later, which made Chanyeol wonder if they'd been hiding in the bushes somewhere the whole time, watching the exchange between him and Baekhyun. “Chanyeol, are you alright?” Jongdae asked, sounding concerned.

“I’m sorry.” Chanyeol sat there watching Baekhyun disappear into the night. He stood up, swaying a little on his feet. He was already beginning to slur, his tongue thick in his mouth like a lump of dead meat. “I’m sorry, but… I have to go. I have to go home.”

“Chanyeol, wait,” Amber said.

Chanyeol didn’t reply. He stumbled blindly past his friends, out into the street, and there the ground rushed up to meet him gladly, as it always did.

***

When Chanyeol opened his eyes again, he was laid out on a sofa, in what he soon realised was his own apartment. He looked up and saw Jongdae and Amber standing there next to him, both wearing grave expressions, but their eyes brightened a little when they saw him wake up.

“Hey, buddy… you passed out again, so we took you home.” Jongdae looked a bit awkward and said, “I, uh, had to pickpocket you for your keys to get in here. Sorry about that.”

Chanyeol tried to sit up, but his head began to spin and he lay down again. He swallowed and said, “where are the others..?”

“Kibum’s dropping Joohyun home. Don’t worry about them, they’re fine.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol rubbed his eyes. “I feel fucking awful.” He looked around the living room and noticed Jongin standing there in the corner by himself, looking sheepish. “What’s _he_ doing here..?”

“He just wanted to make sure you were okay too,” Jongdae said. “Relax… don’t work yourself up. Besides, we needed his help to get you up here.”

“Let him speak for himself, Jongdae… he’s an adult, isn’t he? Who even invited him, anyway?” Chanyeol felt horrible as soon as the words left his mouth. He sighed and said, “I’m sorry, but I'm not happy to see you right now, Jongin. I’m not going to pretend that I am.”

“He cares about you a lot, you know,” Amber said, somewhat curtly. “Despite what you seem to think. Cut him some slack, okay?”

“Oh, he cares about me, does he?” Chanyeol let out a bitter little laugh, regretting it when all of his muscles liquefied again for a few seconds. “You left me to get over you, sick and depressed and alone,” he said to Jongin. “And now you come back and leave me with nothing — again.”

“Chanyeol, I didn’t know,” Jongin said quietly. “I wouldn’t have said any of those things if I knew you were with someone else.”

It was all coming up now, and Chanyeol couldn’t stop it. All those feelings he thought he’d buried forever — clearly he hadn’t buried them deep enough, and now they were all clawing their way back out. “I mean, you didn’t even ask me, did you..? Did you ever even consider asking if I wanted to come with you? Would you even have given me the option? Or did you just not want to be dragged down by a sick person all the time?”

“Why bother?” Jongin snapped, “you _know_ you wouldn’t have said yes anyway.” His expression softened a little. “I _wanted_ to ask you, but how could I? You were all set up here. You had a good job, and clients who liked you, and you seemed to enjoy living in a small town — and that’s great, but _I_ didn’t. I’d already spent my whole life in this fucking shit-hole… maybe I was sick of it, travelling back and forth to get to class every day. I trained my arse off to get to where I was. I’m not going to apologise for wanting something different.”

“Then why not just tell me the truth, instead of lying to me about your audition? How was I supposed to feel about that, knowing that I — your fucking boyfriend — was one of the very last people to know you were leaving?”

Jongin rolled his eyes, but then he sighed and said, “because I’d wanted that position for so long… it was my dream, and I was scared you’d try to talk me out of it. I don’t know why, but I didn’t think you’d be happy for me. And I was already really nervous about moving away, from everyone and everything I knew. I didn’t need any negative vibes to wreck the whole thing for me.”

“…So in other words, you thought I’d be jealous of your success?” Chanyeol let out such a snort of laughter that he was sure he would have collapsed again if he wasn’t already lying down. “What a crock of absolute shit. I always knew you were a bit up yourself, but this just takes the whole fucking bakery.”

Jongin screwed his eyes shut, and began rubbing the tension from his forehead. “I can see it’s probably not a good time for me to be here, so I’m gonna go,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Jongin, hang on a second,” Jongdae said, but Jongin didn’t wait. He walked past them all without looking at Chanyeol, and then closed the front door quietly behind him.

Amber turned towards Chanyeol, her eyes flashing with anger. “Why are you being such a dick to him?”

Chanyeol blinked at her. “Um, has every single one of you conveniently forgotten that _he_ dumped me first..?”

“Fine… I can’t argue with that,” Amber said, throwing up her hands. “Still, he gave up everything to come back and see you — and he barely had the money for the flight, either. I know that was a rash thing for him to do, but the least you could do is be a little more civil.”

“His choice, not mine,” Chanyeol muttered. “I’m not here to clear his conscience.”

“So you’re going to crucify him for it forever? No one’s asking you to take him back… just to treat him like a human being.”

Chanyeol covered his face with his hands and let out a loud groan of exasperation. “Just… _why_ did you invite him? How could inviting my ex-boyfriend to watch me dance with my current one _ever_ be considered a good idea..?”

“Look, this is all my fault,” Jongdae said quietly. “I knew Jongin was planning to come back home, and he begged me not to tell you because he wanted it to be a surprise… so I didn’t tell you. And he was so happy for you when we told him you were getting into dancing now; he was really excited to come and watch. We thought you’d be pleased to see him, that it’d be a nice reunion. I’m sorry if I was wrong. But maybe if you’d _told_ us you and Baekhyun were dating, instead of playing the whole ‘oh, he’s just a friend’ act — not very convincingly, might I add…”

“It was a very recent development,” Chanyeol said, interrupting him. “I didn’t want to spill the news everywhere so early in the relationship.” He sighed. “This was really, _really_ important to me, and I didn’t want to screw it up. And now it’s all screwed up anyway, because of you. So thanks. Thanks a flipping bunch.”

“Chanyeol, we were only trying to help—”

“But you’re not! You’re _not_ helping!” As soon as the words stopped echoing off the walls, the apartment fell deathly silent. Jongdae looked down at the floor, and Amber, too, looked anywhere but at Chanyeol. The discomfort in the room was palpable, and Chanyeol wanted desperately to open a window — not for fresh air, but to jump right out of it. Anything to get away from that toxic atmosphere.

“I’m just trying to help myself,” he said quietly, finally breaking the excruciating silence. “I’m trying to get through the day on my own, and live a normal life, but you’re not letting me do that. All these things you guys try to do for me all the time… I appreciate the thought behind them. I know it’s all done with good intentions. But all it does is make me feel even more helpless than I already do.”

Jongdae sighed. “I’m sorry, Yeol. All we ever wanted was to make things a bit easier for you.” He met Amber’s eye for a second and then looked at Chanyeol again. “But we’ll take a step back, if that’s what you really want.”

Amber’s lips were pursed, and she hesitated for a moment, but then she bent down to kiss Chanyeol on the forehead. “We’ll get out of here, then… let you get some rest. Call us if you need anything, okay?”

Chanyeol just nodded in silence, and lay there waiting for the sound of his friends closing the front door behind them, before letting out the longest sigh of his life. Wasn’t being honest with the people he loved supposed to make him feel better? Now he only felt even worse.

In his dreams, he was sitting on the sand by the ocean again, waiting for the sun to come up. It was a place he always went back to. Nightmares came and went; he saw them while asleep and he saw them while awake, but he never knew which was happening at what time. He saw violent drunks and balaclava'd burglars and parades of shadowy demons, and an enormous shark slid up on its belly out of the sea, right up over the sand, trying to bite off both his feet at the ankles. The feet grew back every time, although never at quite the correct size, and Chanyeol never questioned any of these visions; they looked and felt too real, just as they always did. Where was the line, and how could he keep it clearly drawn when it kept being washed away? All he wanted, more than anything, was to sleep. Love and comfort didn’t matter anymore; all he wanted now was to close his eyes for a while, and wake up again knowing the difference between asleep and awake. He had never felt so tired in his life, and for someone like him, that was saying something. But cruelly, he couldn’t stay asleep. That was the thing about sleep — it came and left as it wanted to, with not a single thought spared for him. It never showed up on time, and when it did come, it came at all the times it was least welcome. And why fight it, when it would only slap into him like the waves did when his back was turned, and then pull him under until he stopped breathing — why fight it? It was only going to come anyway.

Chanyeol lay there on the sofa for the rest of the night, delirious with exhaustion, entertaining hallucination after hallucination until the morning came. The tunnel had no end; no light, no circle of blue sky… just endless walls with things scrawled on them, things that made no sense, no matter how hard he tried to decipher them. Mere words had never been so frightening.

_xiv._

Chanyeol woke up to the crushing weight of Baekhyun sitting on his chest; he had his hands wrapped around Chanyeol's throat, squeezing so hard he couldn’t speak. He could barely even breathe. How the hell did Baekhyun get into his apartment? He made several desperate attempts to move, but his eyes were the only parts of him not paralysed. Baekhyun's stare was icy, unflinching; his skin was ghostly white and felt abnormally cold, like he’d just shoved his hands into a bucket of ice water. He whispered something that Chanyeol couldn't make out at first, but then the garbled words rearranged themselves into something he recognised — _‘keep your breathless charm.’_

He woke up again, this time for real, clawing at his throat and gasping for air. He fell for this shit every time. He'd felt those hands — the long, cold fingers pressing into his neck, squeezing the life from him, and was convinced they were real. He still couldn't breathe properly, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he thought he might pass out.

Chanyeol knew it wasn't Baekhyun's fault that he'd become the newest cast member in these visions of terror, but somehow it felt like a betrayal anyway. It had been two weeks since they’d seen each other in the flesh; Baekhyun hadn’t answered any of his calls, and when Chanyeol had attempted showing up to a ballroom class, he’d said hello in a way that was more polite than friendly, but afterwards he paid Chanyeol no further attention. Chanyeol didn’t feel the need to show up again after that; there would be no point. But now that nightmare-Baekhyun was gone, he only missed the real version of him even more.

He’d been having more hallucinations than usual, lately. Chanyeol knew that a number of things could bring them on, especially stress, and in many ways, the past couple of weeks had been particularly stressful. There was the issue of Baekhyun not talking to him, and Jongin’s untimely return, and his fragile emotional state was making his already unpredictable condition go haywire. He found himself nodding off more and more at work, then waking up and having to explain himself, always having to apologise for something he couldn’t control. The hardest day was when he arrived at the hospital for a group session with the kids and noticed that Jenny wasn’t there; when one of the nurses informed him afterwards that they’d lost her, Chanyeol had simply nodded in silence, too numb to react at first. He’d walked into the nearest bathroom, promptly bursting into tears as soon as he was alone, and ended up falling asleep on the floor instead.

In some ways, his ability to leave the world behind for a little while — especially when it was at its cruelest — could be considered a small mercy, Chanyeol thought. But only a very small one.

After lying on the sofa to recover for a couple of minutes, he forced himself up to get ready for work. By the time he arrived at his office, he was already so exhausted that he plopped down in front of his desk, resting his head upon its hard surface. He hadn’t done any preparation for the day at all, but the thought didn’t bother him as much as it should have. He was too tired to care. He closed his eyes, feeling certain that sleep would claim him quickly, but it didn’t.

A loud knock at the door startled him, followed by the sound of it gently being pushed open. Chanyeol looked up, blinking his tired, dried-out eyes, and saw a girl named Keira standing there with her mother. Keira was ten years old and, for reasons unknown even to her parents, had suddenly stopped speaking at the age of five. But as far as musical ability went, she was one of Chanyeol’s most gifted clients; it was obvious that she dearly loved the piano, and because Chanyeol loved it too, he felt that they shared a special bond that transcended language. Getting a rare smile out of her was like winning the lottery. But right now, even the prospect of working with Keira couldn’t cheer him up.

“I’m just popping out to do some shopping. I’ll be back at eleven,” Keira’s mother said, and Chanyeol must have looked awful, because she offered him a sympathetic smile. She closed the door behind her, waving at them both through the glass panel before she left.

Because he hadn’t prepared for their time together, Chanyeol started Keira off with a simple sight-reading exercise while he tried to draw up a last-minute session plan. She wasn't in a very co-operative mood, and kept mashing the piano keys with her palms instead of playing the piece he’d chosen for her. Eventually something inside Chanyeol snapped, and he yelled out “for fuck’s sake!” before he could stop himself. Keira just sat there for a moment, frozen stiff, staring at her hands splayed across the keys. She got up and ran out of the room.

“Shit,” Chanyeol muttered under his breath, getting up from his seat to follow her. “Keira, wait..”

Keira ran out into the waiting room of the medical centre, with none of the people sitting there doing a thing to stop her. Chanyeol ran past them, yelling “I’m sorry, Keira!”, thinking briefly about how bad this was probably going to appear to any onlookers — a thirty-year-old man chasing after a scared-looking ten-year-old girl. He could hear the pattering of her Mary Janes down the stairwell, and felt the panic expanding inside his chest. If she ran out into the street, he would be in big trouble.

When Chanyeol got to the bottom of the stairs, he almost ran smack-bang into someone, stopping short just in time. He looked at the man standing in front of him, his eyes widening. “Jongin..?”

Jongin just stood there and smiled at him: that typical, non-committal, classic Jongin smile — which was almost not a smile and more of a smirk. He had one hand placed gently on Keira's shoulder. “Are you missing a child, by any chance? She nearly ran right into me on my way in.” Keira stared at the floor; she made no move to run away, but her eyes, usually revealing no clues as to her emotional state, had a flighty, desperate look about them.

“She’s one of my clients.” Chanyeol swallowed hard, then leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He felt like he was seconds away from passing out. “What are you doing here, anyway? Never mind... don’t answer that. I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with it right now.”

Jongin’s smirk faded. He actually looked a bit flustered for once. “Do you think I could talk to you for a moment..?”

“I’m kind of in the middle of a session,” Chanyeol said. “Or I _was_ , anyway, before she ran out on me. It’s my fault, I was too hard on her.”

“It’s fine… I won’t disturb you. I’ll just wait outside until you’re done.”

Chanyeol sighed. “Alright, whatever. I guess I don’t have a choice, do I..?”

“I’m more than prepared to sit in the waiting room all day until you decide to talk to me,” Jongin said quietly. “I’ll just put it that way.”

“Fine. Sit outside and wait for me, then.” Chanyeol put a hand on Keira’s shoulder, steering her back towards the stairs. “Come on, Keira. Let’s go.”

Keira refused to perform for the rest of the session, and in the end Chanyeol had to call her mother to come and collect her early. She seemed understanding of the situation, but he couldn’t help thinking it was possible he’d never see the girl again. Any progress they’d made could all potentially be undone… the mere thought broke his heart already, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Pulling himself together, he called Jongin into his office and closed the door.

“Okay,” he said, looking pointedly at his watch. “I have about fifteen minutes until the next one gets here. So if you have something to say, you’d better spill it.”

Jongin sat down in the chair opposite Chanyeol’s desk, leaning back with his arms casually crossed over his chest. “I just want to talk, that’s all… you’ve barely let me say a single word to you since I got back. And I figured, if I didn’t corner you and force you to talk to me, it was probably never going to happen, so..”

“Well, showing up at my workplace isn't exactly the best way to go about it,” Chanyeol said irritably. “Haven't you disrupted things enough..?”

“You haven’t really given me a choice, have you?” Jongin said, rolling his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry — I heard about the performance from Jongdae, and I wanted to come and watch. I didn't think it'd be such a huge problem. Why didn't you tell me you were dancing, anyway? I would have liked to know too.”

Chanyeol let out a long, forceful exhale; this was too much for him already, and he was starting to feel exhausted. “You broke my heart, Jongin… I can't even look at you anymore without being reminded of how that made me feel. Anyway, you gave up your right to know everything that’s going on in my life; especially about me trying to find a bit of happiness somewhere else.”

Jongin sighed. “I know… you’re right. But just because I moved away, it doesn't mean I don't want to know how you’re doing. I never stopped caring about you.”

“Well, now you know,” Chanyeol said angrily. “Now you know I’m a terrible dancer, and I hope it makes you happy. I guess I'll probably be giving it all up anyway, now that the person who was teaching me won’t even speak to me anymore.” Jongin looked guilty as soon as Chanyeol said this, and he wanted to derive some form of satisfaction from it, but it only left him feeling emptier.

“I’ve really missed you, you know,” Jongin said in a quiet voice. “I know I have no right to feel that way, but I do. I’ve missed you so much.”

Chanyeol looked at him for a long time, his lips pursed, but then his expression softened. “I’ve missed you too,” he whispered, and in spite of everything, he meant it.

Jongin got up and walked over to the other side of the desk, slowly, as though afraid he might scare Chanyeol away. Then he took Chanyeol's face in his hands, leaned down and kissed him, and for a minute or two, Chanyeol let him do it. Jongin had always been a good kisser. Jongin was good at everything, in fact; clever, handsome, ambitious, the kind of guy everyone liked and wanted to be — but all Chanyeol could think about while they were kissing was that he wasn't Baekhyun. Beautiful, sweet, funny Baekhyun, who danced on the sand so he wouldn’t hurt himself, and laughed about his butt injections, and, while never denying Chanyeol’s condition and its accompanying limitations, had never seen him as anything but capable; who pulled Chanyeol out of the deep blue and made him feel like life _could_ be wonderful again, even when it wasn’t. Especially when it wasn’t.

“I can’t, Jongin.” With his hand on Jongin's chest, Chanyeol gently pushed him away. “I’m sorry. I don't feel that way about you anymore.”

Jongin’s expression was either one of disappointment or confusion; Chanyeol couldn't tell which. “Not at all..?”

Chanyeol paused. He couldn’t really bring himself to say there was someone he liked kissing a lot more; but even if that person never wanted to talk to him ever again, that fact alone still changed everything. Baekhyun had a firm hold on his heart, and it was clear to Chanyeol that he wasn’t ever going to give it back. He sighed and sank down into his chair. “I want nothing more than for you to be happy, and I appreciate that you came all the way back here for me… but I’m not going to get into this with you again. I can’t just forget how you made me feel that easily.”

Jongin stood there before Chanyeol, his normally full lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay,” he said, and offered Chanyeol a pleasant smile, but his eyes looked pained. “You definitely don’t love me anymore..?”

Chanyeol sighed. “Jongin..”

“It's okay. I know you don't owe me anything. I just need to know.”

“A part of me will always love you,” Chanyeol said quietly. “But I love him more.”

Jongin nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He walked towards the door of Chanyeol's office and turned around, just as his hand went to the handle to open it. “I hope you’ll at least let me take you to dinner one time,” he said. “I just want to do one nice thing for you.”

“I’ll let you know,” Chanyeol said. Jongin left him alone then, and Chanyeol didn’t know if he really would see him again, or if he would end up going back to London at some point. But Jongin was no longer his concern, and he’d elected not to be a long time ago. That was a choice he had made on his own, and knowing this made Chanyeol’s mind and heart feel lighter and clearer than they had in a while. But that still left Baekhyun. Chanyeol knew he had to try and see him, to at least explain how he felt. It was entirely likely that Baekhyun wouldn't want to talk to him, but he would give it one last shot, and only then would he let go, if he had to.

He made plans to go and visit Baekhyun at home on Saturday morning, rather than try to catch him at the studio; it wasn’t exactly the best place to talk alone. Chanyeol rang Baekhyun’s mobile beforehand to be polite; to his surprise, Baekhyun actually answered this time, and told him to come on over. He was already standing in the doorway when Chanyeol got out of the lift, looking at him with a pinched expression. His hair was a mess, and faded from its usual bright red to orange. He looked beautiful as always, but tired, and Chanyeol was so in love with him that he nearly doubled over because he felt like he couldn’t breathe properly. He’d forgotten how beautiful Baekhyun really was in the intervening weeks, and it winded him like a kick to the gut, but he composed himself as well as he could, even though his body was prepared to give up and crumple into a pile on the floor. “Um, hi,” he said. “How are you..?”

“I’m alright,” Baekhyun said quietly. “How about you?” He didn't appear to be hostile, or even suspicious, but he peered out at Chanyeol in a curious way from behind the half-open front door of his apartment.

“I need to talk to you.” Chanyeol was still out of breath, and sounded it when he spoke.

“I know.” Baekhyun wore a hint of a smile, which made Chanyeol's knotted guts unknot themselves a little. “You already said that on the phone.”

“I came because I wanted to apologise,” Chanyeol said. “For not telling you about Jongin. But I promise you, I wasn’t with him at any time while we were together… as far as I was concerned, our relationship ended when he moved away. I probably should have made that clear to him before he left, but I didn’t think I needed to. I just thought it was mutually understood.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Okay,” he said, in a casual tone, “I get it. Apology accepted. Anything else..?”

Chanyeol blinked at him. “Are you still mad at me?”

“No, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun sighed. “I’m not mad at you. I'm aware that I overreacted to the situation. I just have nothing much to say to you right now.”

“I told you I'm not with him anymore.” Chanyeol tried to swallow his growing exasperation. “What more can I tell you..? What do want me to do, Baek? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

Baekhyun looked at him for a long time, without speaking. “It's not that simple,” he said at last, in a quiet voice.

“How is it not simple? I love you, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol’s hands were starting to shake, and he felt weak at the knees again. “I’ve never loved _anyone_ the way I love you — not even Jongin. How much simpler does it need to be..?”

Baekhyun winced and rubbed his forehead. It looked as though he had a headache — or a hangover, maybe, Chanyeol thought. “Look, this really isn’t a good time… I’m not feeling very well today.”

“Then when _will_ be a good time?” Chanyeol said quietly. “Never..?”

“I don’t know. It's just that I've been burnt by this sort of thing before… someone I really care about hiding things from me.”

It occurred to Chanyeol that Baekhyun was still standing in front of the door, obscuring his view into the apartment. He heard a noise then; it sounded like it came from inside, but maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe it was coming from another apartment nearby… but then he heard it again.

Chanyeol swallowed the lump growing in his throat, but it was useless. The lump wouldn’t budge. “Baek, is someone in there...?”

Baekhyun didn’t answer. He just looked at Chanyeol with his bottom lip sucked into his mouth. Finally he said, in a voice so small Chanyeol could barely hear him, “yes… there is.”

Chanyeol nodded. “Alright. Well, I think I've heard enough..”

“—But nothing happened.” Now Baekhyun was standing out in the corridor, the front door still ajar behind him. “We didn’t— we didn’t do anything. I just let him crash here, that’s all. It was a stupid mistake and I regret it enough as it is.”

“You don't need to explain yourself to me,” Chanyeol said bitterly, and he turned around to walk away. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to know how they met — if it was at the same place Baekhyun had met him, or somewhere else. He didn’t want to know if they’d danced together, or if they’d kissed, or if Baekhyun had given him a cute nickname right off the bat, just as he had with Chanyeol. Some things were better left unsaid.

Chanyeol barely made it a few steps before his knees gave out and he tripped over, falling to the floor. Baekhyun rushed over to help him, and Chanyeol felt a warm hand gently rubbing his back.

“Please,” Baekhyun whispered. “Please come inside and lie down until you feel better. You can have my bed — I’ll let you sleep for as long as you want. I don’t want you walking around outside like this.”

“Isn’t _he_ in your bed right now?” Chanyeol muttered, more to the floor than to Baekhyun.

“I put him on the couch. He never went anywhere near my bed.”

Chanyeol felt an immense pressure behind his eyes; he couldn’t tell if he might cry at any moment, or if it was just because he was so exhausted. “I can’t,” he whispered. He lay curled up on the floor of the corridor, with one side of his face pressed against the worn, shit-brown carpet, too tired and devastated to get up. “I can’t go back in there.”

And how was he going to go back home, to his own empty bed? The bed where Baekhyun held him in his arms, and whispered _“my love”_ into his mouth and meant it; where Chanyeol lay with Baekhyun’s head on his heart, and for the first time in recent memory, slept the blissfully undisturbed sleep of a new man, a _healthy_ man; a man who knew he was loved. For the past few weeks, he’d been sleeping (if you could call it sleeping) on the sofa, or on the floor if he happened to fall there; anywhere but in that bed. Even stripping the sheets wasn’t enough; the smell of Baekhyun was still there, hanging around like a bad spirit. It would always be there, until the entire building was burnt to the ground.

While he was on the floor, he fell asleep for a moment, and had another dream: a dream about waking up on the floor of what appeared to be a supermarket aisle — he was completely immobile, with people walking all over him while they pulled what they wanted from the shelves: firearms, explosives, knives, axes, instruments of destruction in all forms. A few people used him as a footstool to reach the topmost shelf. He tried to alert them by mouthing the words “I’m down here”, but nothing came out, only a few choked noises. Others got angry and started kicking him, pushing him out of the way with their feet. One of them kneeled down and held a gun to his head, the barrel pressed hard into the space between his eyes.

When he woke up, he was still on the floor outside Baekhyun’s apartment, with Baekhyun crouched down next to him. He had his hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Chanyeol,” he whispered, “are you okay? You went to sleep for a while.”

Chanyeol lay there without speaking. Then he grabbed one of Baekhyun’s arms, nearly pulling him over.

Baekhyun let out a little shriek of surprise. “What—!”

“Please, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol held Baekhyun’s hand against the side of his face, closing his eyes, relishing the soft warmth of it. Such pleasure only from holding his hand! In that moment, Chanyeol thought there could be no greater comfort in the world, not even sleep. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and I just want to hold your hand. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yes,” Baekhyun said quietly, his brow furrowed with concern. “Of course it is.”

“I’ve missed holding you so much,” Chanyeol whispered, without daring to open his eyes; he didn’t want to see the look on Baekhyun’s face when he said this, knowing it might reveal things he wasn’t ready to deal with. “You have no idea how much… or maybe you do. I really hope you do.”

Baekhyun said nothing; he just made one of those uncomfortable little sounds in the back of his throat, and let Chanyeol hold on to him for a moment. Chanyeol moved his hand to Baekhyun’s wrist, feeling for his pulse to see if it was beating quickly. It was.

“I’d better go.” Opening his eyes at last, he kissed the palm of Baekhyun’s hand and released it. “I’m sorry for taking up your time. I just needed to see you for a little while.”

“Chanyeol, I really think you should come inside and lie down,” Baekhyun said quietly.

Chanyeol slowly got to his feet. “Thanks, but I’d better not.” He started to walk away until Baekhyun called his name, this time with more urgency. Chanyeol turned around to face him, already swaying on his feet again.

“If you really won't come inside, then… please take the lift instead of the stairs,” Baekhyun said. He offered Chanyeol a faint smile. “At least it’s no longer ‘out of oder’.”

“I know,” Chanyeol said quietly. “And I will.”

Baekhyun drew a long, shaky breath. “If you can, go straight home. Or at least sit down somewhere until you feel better.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol forced a smile to reassure him; it was comforting, at least, to know that Baekhyun still cared about him in some small way. “Actually, I think I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head,” he said, “but don't worry about me. I won't do anything silly.”

Baekhyun looked like he wanted desperately to say something else, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself. He just nodded in silence and stood in the doorway, watching after Chanyeol until he disappeared into the lift, the steel doors closing behind him. On his way to the ground floor, Chanyeol tried to eject the haunting image of those sad eyes from his mind, but he couldn’t. It was a face he would never forget, he thought, probably for as long as he lived.

He stepped out into the street, got out the gold helmet from his backpack and pulled it onto his head, then began to walk in a brisk stride down the road, trying to beat the exhaustion, but as usual it was one step ahead of him and he could barely keep up. Two buses going to the beach passed him, but he insisted on walking. On his way down he passed those three boys sitting on the roadside outside the corner shop, blowing and popping their gum bubbles at him. “Hey, mister,” one of them said, “still can’t find your bike..?”

“Shut it, you little turd,” Chanyeol snapped, barely stopping on his way past. He glanced over his shoulder quickly to see that the kid look surprised at the insult, in a just-been-slapped kind of way. Chanyeol would have been surprised too, on a normal day — he wasn’t particularly confrontational at the best of times — but it wasn't a normal day, and he was too tired. Way too tired for other people's shit.

Right now, he thought as he kept walking, he just wanted to find a quiet bush somewhere, and curl up beneath it and go to sleep. He used to do that when he was a kid, whenever something had upset him: go and crawl away somewhere to cry in secret, and then he'd always fall asleep there, and his parents would get into a panic trying to locate him again. And he would be there the whole time, in the house somewhere — under the stairs, under his bed, under a blanket at the bottom of the linen closet, in the pantry — not ignoring their calls on purpose, but simply because, for a short period of time, he was completely dead to the world, in a safe place where even the shrillest of voices and the deepest of sorrows couldn’t reach him.

When he got to the beach, he headed towards the water. Sand immediately filled his shoes, and he kicked his feet angrily to get it out. His eyes were starting to feel heavy. The weather was crap, too; looked like it might rain soon. The beach was deserted. Good, he thought, so much the better. He sat down on the sand and waited — for nothing in particular, just for the fog in his head to clear. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but a part of him was waiting for Baekhyun to show up — not necessarily the real Baekhyun in the flesh, but perhaps a projection of him, from a time before everything had changed. He would have even accepted a murderous hallucination of Baekhyun right now, anything to feel like he wasn't alone. There was something about this beach that often gave Chanyeol a feeling of timelessness, perhaps in the way the waves were usually so calm and constant, always the same number of seconds apart. But today the waves were raging and erratic, hurling themselves against the shore in the same way a distressed animal writhes around on the floor of a cage that is too small for it. And once that train of thought left the station, it couldn’t be stopped. What _was_ time? What even was a second? Who wrote the rule that seconds and minutes were to be as long as they were… and who decided that a second was something that felt very short, when every second he'd spent alone over the past few weeks had felt like a lifetime — not a lifetime in miniature, but a _real_ lifetime, eighty or ninety years long. And now he was so old, and tired, and there was no relief at all, not even in sleep. And without the refuge of sleep, where else was there to go?

So staying right where he was seemed as good a plan as any. He would stay there until Baekhyun was well enough again to go back to the beach to dance, and even if he didn’t have the guts to talk to him, Chanyeol would reach out to watch him, tiny and perfect, twirling around in the palm of his hand. But it didn’t matter anymore… even the possibility of seeing him from afar held no excitement for Chanyeol. He needed that bit of magic Baekhyun had brought into his life, to help him believe in the beauty of the ordinary, and now that magic was gone.

The cold of the wind began to seep through Chanyeol's skin, spreading into his bones. Up in the full sky, the underbelly of each cloud was painted grey. It would rain soon, for sure. He knew he should probably go home, but to what? An empty apartment. Empty arms, empty heart.

He got up from the sand, took the helmet off his head and threw it into the sea, then kicked the water at it, as though doing this would submerge the bloody thing. All it did was float away, bobbing around in the waves like a ridiculous golden buoy. The kick felt like a dance move, and he remembered what Baekhyun had said about dancing out his frustration — once Chanyeol started, he found he couldn’t stop. He wanted to shout at the sea, and then he wanted to kick it — and then he wanted to kick himself because of how absurd it was, wanting to take out his anger on a blameless body of water. He did it anyway: kicked the waves as they crashed, danced like a madman, his arms spinning like crazed windmills. He did the Foxtrot along the edge of the shore, stepping lightly around the small waves that crashed around his ankles and soaked into his shoes, all the while thinking of that Sinatra song they danced to; he knew every single word by now. He remembered the exact shape of Baekhyun’s lips while he mouthed each syllable, and the look in his eyes. The warm weight of his hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder. He remembered it so clearly he could feel it now, like it was happening right there on the beach, and it was all too much.

Chanyeol’s eyelids fluttered and he fell to his knees, folding over into the wet sand, water soaking into his clothes. When he opened his eyes again, Baekhyun was standing over him, dressed in his cut-offs and white t-shirt, singing a silent song about a laugh that wrinkled someone’s nose. He looked down at Chanyeol with a soft yet blank expression, his red hair falling into his eyes; funny how it didn’t seem to move at all with the howling wind, like the elements didn’t apply to him.

“Are you real or a dream?” Chanyeol wanted to reach out a hand to shield his eyes from the wind, to keep it from throwing handfuls of sand in his face, but he couldn’t move. Baekhyun didn’t reply. He stood with his back to the sea, the water lapping at his ankles, and kept mouthing words Chanyeol could only hear inside his head; the same three words over and over, like a scratched record, _my foolish heart._ “Never turn your back on the ocean,” the lifeguard had said to Chanyeol on the day she dragged him out from the water, but no one was on duty today: conditions were too rough, and the red-and-yellow flags marking the safest area to swim had been pulled down. Chanyeol briefly recalled seeing the warning sign saying that the beach was unpatrolled, with its little stylised silhouette of a drowning man beneath some wavy lines, but he had paid no attention to it at the time. It dawned on him now, even in this half-delirious state he was in, what a grievous mistake that was; thinking he could get the better of the sea, and live to tell of it the next day.

What the sea wanted, it would take without hesitation; that had always been the way, and so it would continue to be, and hadn’t he learned that by now?

The sky turned greyer, so grey it was almost black, fat droplets of rain driving pits like bullet holes into the sand. It hit Chanyeol’s skin so hard and cold that it felt like small chips of ice. He looked up at Baekhyun, at the shadows gathering behind him, and suddenly there was Big Smokey emerging out of the sea, towering proudly over the pair of them. Chanyeol stared up at the gigantic concrete stack, bewildered by its appearance in a place where it didn’t belong. There was an ear-splitting sound, something like an explosion; Big Smokey began to tilt forward, so slowly that it almost seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and then it began to fall faster and faster.

“Get down,” Chanyeol said weakly. He tried to hold out an arm, hoping to pull Baekhyun down onto the sand with him, but he still couldn’t move. Even if he could, Baekhyun’s hands were well beyond his reach.

“I heard nothing,” Baekhyun said aloud, still looking down at Chanyeol with his head tilted to one side. He looked at him like he wasn’t really there, staring through him like a pane of glass. The tide began to roll out, the water swirling around Baekhyun’s calves, and Chanyeol could barely hear him speak over the roar of the ocean. A wave washed over him then, filling his mouth with seawater, the salt burning his eyes and the back of his throat. He was too paralysed to move, so gripped with panic that he could no longer think, could only feel the wind and rain slapping him with thousands of stinging, icy hands. He coughed so hard he thought he’d die, gurgled something that sounded like _“help”_. Baekhyun only continued to stand there in the spreading shadow of the falling giant, smiling coldly at him. He kept his hands to himself. “Keep that breathless charm,” he said. Another wave came a second after the words left his mouth, much bigger than the one before, and this time it took Chanyeol with it.

Underneath the water, more cold fingers grabbed at Chanyeol’s ankles, dragging him down to the ocean floor. He eventually bobbed up to the surface, his lungs screaming for air. Snatching blurred glances at the sky, he saw no falling tower. No Baekhyun standing on the beach. The waves toyed with him for a while, tossed him about like a paper boat, beating the last of the breath from his body, until the world went black.

Then, a little lifetime later… the memory of one last pair of hands, soft but strong, pulling him back in to shore.

_xv._

Chanyeol knew he was in the back of an ambulance before he even opened his eyes; he could tell from the bumping and rolling of the vehicle, and what felt like an oxygen mask strapped to his face. His clothes were wet and clung to his body. He felt like he'd gone through the wringer, or been hit by a truck — a strange, awful, disorienting feeling, like being disassembled and put back together again in the wrong order. Leaden eyes, dry mouth, heart sitting like a heavy lump throbbing in his burning throat — sick in all ways it was possible to be, in body, mind and soul. Someone was holding his hand, stroking the back of it; a woman, by the sound of her voice. She was telling him to wake up. Why don't _you_ bloody wake up, Chanyeol felt like saying, but he couldn’t speak. He blinked his eyes until the blurriness cleared, and saw her sitting beside him. She was blonde and about his age, dressed in a navy-blue uniform. The name-tag pinned to her top read _Chaerin_.

“Hi there.” She had a nice voice, the kind Chanyeol could easily fall asleep to, although the same could be said about a lot of people’s voices. She smiled a pretty, sunny smile at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm. Not that great.” Chanyeol’s voice came out all croaky, and he was glad it was partly muffled by the mask. It hurt just to talk. “Do I even want to know why I’m in here..?”

“Your friend Baekhyun found you unconscious at the beach.” Chaerin patted the back of Chanyeol’s hand one last time before letting it go. “You were standing on the shoreline when you suddenly collapsed in the water, and he saw you go under; so he ran in to pull you out, then tried to perform CPR on you until we arrived. He was able to revive you pretty quickly, and then you puked up the water you swallowed, so I’m sure you’ll be okay. They’re going to have a good look at you down at the hospital, just to be safe.”

“Baekhyun..?” At the mention of Baekhyun’s name, Chanyeol tried to lift his head to look around, but gave up — he was too weak. “Where is he..?”

“He’s not here… sorry, hon.” Chaerin strapped a velcro cuff around Chanyeol’s arm and began to take a blood pressure reading. “We only allow family members to ride in the ambulance, and even then it’s only in special cases, but he did say he’d try to come and see you at the hospital later. They’ll probably keep you there a while, just to make absolutely certain there’s no fluid in your lungs. At this stage, it’s too early to rule out the risk of pneumonia or other complications.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol leaned back against the pillow; he vaguely remembered having a dream about nearly drowning — or what he thought was a dream. Perhaps it hadn’t been one after all. “I didn’t even know he knew CPR.”

“Neither did he — he had to google it on his phone. He was lucky it didn’t get wet!” Chaerin chuckled softly, but then her expression turned serious. “He looked really shaken when we got there, but he handled the situation very well, especially considering he was alone and had no idea what he was doing. You couldn’t have chosen a worse day to nearly drown — the beach was deserted, conditions were terrible… you’re very fortunate that he was there and acted so quickly.” She smiled at Chanyeol again. “You know, even after such a traumatic incident, you drifted off as soon as we wheeled you in here! I had such a hard time waking you up. Poor thing, you must really be exhausted.”

The soothing tone of Chaerin’s voice threatened to send Chanyeol off to sleep all over again. “You have no idea..”

“Well, we’ll be there very soon,” Chaerin said. “You just hang in there, okay? We’ll get you all checked out, and then I’m sure you’ll be able to get some rest.”

Amber came with Kibum to see Chanyeol at the hospital a little later — after he’d been primped and prodded, examined to within an inch of his life, and then finally moved to a vacant bed. Until then, he had been too tired and distracted to really come to terms with what had happened to him that day, or to give much thought to the part Baekhyun had played in it. He hated being at the hospital as a patient: the antiseptic stink and the constant noise, the disturbing groans coming from neighbouring rooms, the too-bright lights — they were all much more noticeable when you had to be there more than an hour or two. It seemed a completely different place when he was there to play and sing for other people; the atmosphere was more hopeful, somehow.

“Hey, buddy. I’m so relieved you’re alright.” Amber nearly ran over to Chanyeol’s bedside and gathered him up in her arms, smothering him with a too-tight hug. “Baekhyun told me what happened… we closed the shop and came down here right away. Jongdae feels terrible that he can’t get away from work right now, but he’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“Thanks, guys. I feel okay, really… I guess I was just lucky.” Chanyeol stared at Amber and Kibum for a moment, until the image of them began to blur.

“Yeol?” Amber sounded concerned. “Are you alright..?”

Chanyeol buried his head in his hands, trying to hide the messy, hiccuping sobs that hit him out of nowhere. “God… that idiot.” The urge to fall asleep kept rolling in and out, in sickening waves. “I was at his place before I went down to the beach, and he wasn’t feeling well.” He sniffled, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “Sometimes, on his worst days, he’s so weak he can barely walk. What would have happened if I’d pulled him under with me..?”

“I guess he valued your life too much to worry about all that.” Amber smiled, taking Chanyeol’s hand in her own and patting it gently. “But are you really surprised? We’ve all seen the way he looks at you… you obviously mean a hell of a lot to him.”

Chanyeol took a deep, shaking breath and cleared his throat. “I have to thank him. But I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“ _Thank_ him?” Kibum laughed. “Yeol, you need to husband that guy right away. What more reason do you need?”

“When I went to see him, he didn’t seem particularly interested in getting back together,” Chanyeol said quietly. “Anyway, if he doesn’t love me, I’m not going to force him back into my life. I can only hope that some small part of him still feels the same way I do.”

Kibum frowned. “He said he didn’t want to get back together..?”

“Well, not in those exact words,” Chanyeol said. “But I’m pretty sure that was what he meant.”

“Oh,” Kibum said, looking deflated. “That sucks… but at least you told him how you feel. You did all you could do; now the rest is up to him.”

“But why was he with you at the beach..?” Amber asked.

“Before I went down there, I went to talk to him at his apartment,” Chanyeol said, rubbing his eyes. “It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Then I mentioned that I was going for a walk to clear my head. He seemed pretty worried about me before I left, probably because I fell asleep for a while outside his front door. I suppose he followed after me to make sure I was alright.”

“So he does love you, in other words,” Kibum said.

Chanyeol shook his head. “Him caring about me and wanting to be with me are two completely different things, Kibum.”

“I guess. Still, maybe you should try talking to him again… sometimes people need a bit of a wake-up call like this to come to terms with their true feelings. Saving the life of someone else is a pretty big deal.” Kibum put an arm around Amber’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “I mean, I love this girl right here, and I’d run into the most raging of seas to save her life a million times over... but would I do the same for a smart-arse like Jongdae? Mmm, I dunno about that.”

Chanyeol smiled at this, but then he sighed and leaned his head back against the pillow. “I definitely need to go and thank him, whether he still has feelings for me or not. But I suppose I’ll worry about that later.”

“How long are they gonna keep you here, anyway?” Amber asked. “A day or two?”

“I've been told I need to stay here overnight, just to be safe,” Chanyeol said. “It should be okay for me to go home tomorrow.”

“Jongin’s gonna come and see you a bit later, as well… I hope you don’t mind.” Amber looked slightly nervous when she said this. “I told him what happened, and he sounded really worried. I think he'd really like to see how you are. I’m sorry if that wasn’t the right thing to do.”

Chanyeol nodded and smiled at her. “It’s okay. We’ve mostly sorted out our differences, anyway.”

“Oh? Well, that’s great,” Amber said, smiling back. “I’m proud of you.”

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna head back to the shop, let you guys catch up for a while longer,” Kibum said, planting another noisy kiss on Amber's cheek. “I’m really glad you’re alright, Yeol. Rest up, okay?”

“Thanks, Kibum,” Chanyeol said.

“He’s a keeper, isn’t he?” Amber turned her head to watch Kibum walk out of the room. “I’d love to see you like that someday, the way he and I are. And I don’t mean I want to see you with someone else… I mean I just want to see you being happy. I’m always worrying about you, and I know I probably overdo it sometimes, but I can’t help it. You’re kind of like a little brother to me.”

Amber sat down on one of the chairs next to Chanyeol’s bed, looking thoughtful for a moment, tapping the heels of her red Converse sneakers on the lino floor. “I still think about it sometimes, you know… the first time you came into the shop, and I found you asleep in one of the fitting rooms,” she mused, smiling to herself. “And I thought you were some kind of vagrant, until you woke up and started apologising profusely. And I don't know why, but I looked at you and I thought, ‘I need to look after this guy. This person walked into my shop and came into my life so I could help him out.’ It was somehow the most obvious thing to me at the time.” She looked at Chanyeol then, and the smile faded, but her eyes were gentle. “But you've helped me out, too, you know; you've been a great friend, and the best VIP customer ever. You never judge anyone, and you're the sweetest soul I’ve ever met. So I want you to know that I'm not doing any of this shit because I feel sorry for you, or because I think you can’t do things for yourself. It’s because life is hard enough, even for us non-special people. Because I see how fucking exhausted you are all the time, and _I_ feel exhausted just from looking at you. And I’ll never know how hard it is for you, because I’m not you; but I can help you out with anything you need, absolutely anything, as long as you ask for it. I know Jongdae feels the same way. You just have to let us do it.”

Chanyeol looked at her for a long time. “Amber,” he said quietly, “I’m kind of a mess right now.”

Amber didn't say anything; she just made that face she sometimes made, a pinched sort of expression that Chanyeol knew meant she was trying to hold back an opinion. She neither confirmed nor denied it, which, in a way, meant that it was confirmed.

“I’m a mess,” Chanyeol continued, “and I'm scared. I’m scared that I pushed Baekhyun away for good, and that no one else is going to understand me enough to like me the way he did.” He drew a shaky breath, trying his hardest not to cry again. “I’m scared of not being able to take care of myself. But you probably already knew that, right..?”

Amber let out a quiet little sigh. “You're a mess, alright… the hottest mess that ever messed.” She smiled. “But you're my favourite mess, if it makes you feel better. And I appreciate your honesty; I know telling it like it is doesn't come that naturally to you, so I'm willing to take what I can get.”

“Can't you just let me off easily for once..?” Chanyeol said, wiping his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling anyway.

Amber shrugged. “Best friends are supposed to give you shit when you need it.”

“Look,” Chanyeol said, “about that stuff I said after the concert—”

“Don't worry about it,” Amber replied, holding up a hand to silence him. “I get it: you were upset. You said some shit you didn’t mean. Water under the bridge.”

“No, just hear me out.” Chanyeol took another deep breath, letting it out slowly before he spoke again. “I didn’t mean it like that... I didn’t mean to sound so ungrateful. I just don’t want all of you to keep putting your own lives on hold because you feel like it’s your job to run around after me. I know I’m never going to get better. But that’s my burden to carry, not yours.”

“We don't think you're a burden, Yeol,” Amber said quietly. “We never have.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol whispered, “I know.”

Amber gave his leg an affectionate pat over the top of the baby-blue cotton hospital blanket. “Just get some rest, okay? Jongin’ll probably be here soon, and then Jongdae's gonna come and take over the best-friend shit-giving duties as soon as his shift is done. I’ll be back tomorrow to take you home once you’re discharged. I hope you’ll at least let me do that for you.”

Chanyeol smiled and nodded his agreement. “Of course.”

Amber stopped in the doorway and turned around to look at him. “Just remember that we love you, and we only want to make things a bit easier for you. That’s what good friends do, you know; they give each other a hand.” She blew him a kiss, and then she was gone.

After Amber left, Chanyeol slept — a fitful, disturbed sleep in which he couldn’t recall dreaming. When he woke up, Jongin was sitting in one of the chairs next to his bed, and he stood up as soon as he saw Chanyeol’s eyes open.

“Hey,” he said, looking worried, “thank God you’re okay..!”

Chanyeol just blinked at him, since that was all he had the energy for. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“I saw Baekhyun earlier. Did you know he was here..?”

“No… I’ve only seen Amber and Kibum today. I was asleep until now.” Chanyeol frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Where did he go..?”

“I found him sitting here,” Jongin said; he sat quietly for a moment with his ankles crossed, looking down at his shoes. “He was just holding your hand, and kissing it, and whispering something to you that I couldn’t hear. I don’t know, maybe he didn’t want to wake you. But then he saw me come in, and he got up and left.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol’s heart sank into the floor. “Did he say anything to you..?”

“No, he didn’t.” Jongin sighed and rubbed his forehead for a moment. “Look, you really need to talk to him.”

“You think I haven’t already tried..?” Chanyeol sighed, but then he threw Jongin a suspicious look. “What makes _you_ say that, anyway..?”

“Just before he left the room, he looked at me,” Jongin said quietly. “And he looked so completely gutted that I thought something terrible had happened — that maybe there was a chance you wouldn’t make it… or you’d been left with some form of brain damage because he wasn’t able to pull you out in time. Then a nurse came in, and she told me you were just resting, and that you were going to be fine. And I realised he probably looked that way because he thought he was going to have to give you up, even though he was the one who really fought for you.” Jongin paused for a moment and looked up at Chanyeol. “Yeol, I’ve never seen anyone look so crushed in my entire life. And I know you don’t feel that way about me anymore… I get it. But even if you did, I don’t think I’d have the heart to try and steal you away from someone who loves you that much. So I left the room and tried to catch up with him, to tell him that I wasn’t here for that — that I only came to see how you were, but he was already gone.”

As soon as he’d finished speaking, Jongin heaved out a loud sigh and leaned forward in his chair, covering his face with his hands. “I’m not telling you all this to be the good guy, Chanyeol,” he said, looking up at Chanyeol again. “Of course I want you back… that’s why I gave everything up to come back here. I’ve had enough time and space to reflect on the choices I've made, but I can see that it's too late for that — he was there for you when he should have been, and I wasn't. That’s just the way it is. And I’m happy for you… I really am. I just hope that it all works out.”

Chanyeol smiled at Jongin, even though smiling was the last thing he felt like doing. “Me too.”

“That position with the Company… it was what I’d always wanted,” Jongin said. His voice cracked a little, and he swallowed. “That was my decision. Am I going to regret it forever? I don't know… maybe. But I think as long as I know you're okay, then I'll be okay too.”

“I’ll do the best I can,” Chanyeol said quietly. “I promise.”

Jongin gave a little shrug; his eyes still looked sad, but he smiled. “Well, what else can I say? I hope he makes you the happiest man on earth, Yeol. You deserve it.” He got up from his seat and walked off, pausing in front of the door. “But if he ever begins to doubt how lucky he is, even for a second, tell him to give me a call. I’d be more than happy to remind him.”

Chanyeol just shook his head. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispered as he watched Jongin leave, but he wasn’t sure if Jongin heard him.

_xvi._

Chanyeol planned to call Baekhyun as soon as Amber dropped him home the next morning; he’d wanted to talk to him earlier, but his phone had been in his pocket during the near-drowning incident, and it was completely dead. He didn’t even have Baekhyun’s number anymore, he realised, since it had been saved into the now-deceased phone — but that reminded him that he still had the napkin Baekhyun had given him on the night they met, the one with his mobile number scrawled on it. His heart pounding in anticipation, Chanyeol found the crumpled napkin in his dresser drawer, scrunched up inside a pair of boxers, and then he went out into the street to use the payphone. He popped a coin into the slot, punching the number in with trembling fingers.

“Hey… it’s me,” he said, when Baekhyun answered; a wave of fatigue came over him and he leaned against the glass wall of the booth, closing his eyes for a moment. “Are you at home right now? I really need to talk to you.”

“I’m at the studio.” For a moment there was only silence on the other end of the line, and then Baekhyun said, “meet me here, if you want. I’m alone anyway.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol whispered; he stood there with the payphone handset pressed so hard to his ear that it actually hurt, wanting to say more, but instead he hung up and headed back home for a quick shower. If he had to go and face Baekhyun at last, he wouldn’t do it smelling like a hospital.

It seemed unusual that Baekhyun was at the studio before ten on a Sunday morning, but there weren’t many classes on Sundays, and Chanyeol figured he probably just wanted to practice undisturbed. When he arrived, he found Baekhyun alone in the room they usually had their classes in, shadow-dancing in front of the wall of mirrors. Even before Chanyeol saw him, he could hear those quiet grunts of either pain or effort, or perhaps a bit of both, the sounds Baekhyun made whenever he was concentrating. The room looked different, somehow; maybe because Chanyeol had never been to the studio in the morning, or maybe it was because he hadn’t been there for a couple of weeks, the longest amount of time since he’d first started dancing. The sunlight streaming in through the windows made Baekhyun’s hair — still faded from its usual red — glow bright orange. It caught on the tips of his eyelashes and made his skin look warm, but when he moved into the shadows, Chanyeol saw that he was pale and gaunt, his hair and skin suddenly dull and lifeless without the light shining on them. His figure swam in the loose white t-shirt he wore over his gym pants, and Chanyeol wondered how he hadn’t noticed yesterday just how much weight Baekhyun seemed to have lost in only a couple of weeks.

“What did you want to talk about?” Baekhyun asked. He briefly followed Chanyeol's reflection in the mirrored walls of the studio, but he didn't meet his eye; he didn't even turn around to look at him, just kept dancing around in front of the mirror, observing his own movements closely. Chanyeol stood behind him with both hands in his pockets, watching him dance in silence.

“I’m here because I have something to thank you for,” he said at last.

“There's nothing to thank me for.” Baekhyun kept his eyes trained on his own reflection. “I saw you were in danger, so I helped you. I did what any decent person would do.”

“How did you know I was there?” Chanyeol asked quietly.

Baekhyun’s eyes finally met Chanyeol’s in the mirror, but only for a second. “You told me you were going for a walk to clear your head,” he said. “And I was going to leave you to it, because you seemed really upset and I knew you needed the time and space to think. But I saw the way you were swaying when you walked away from my front door, and I thought... well, I don't know what I thought. I didn’t really have to think. So I woke up the guy sleeping on my couch, and told him to leave, and then I thought there was a good chance I’d find you at the beach, so… I went down there. When I arrived, I saw you with your feet in the water. You were dancing alone, and you looked… so wonderful.” Baekhyun paused for a moment and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand; his shoulders were shaking a little. “And then I knew that was exactly how you felt, all those times you were there watching me dance from afar. I just stood there at a safe distance behind you and cried, because I saw it too — the beauty of possibility. Seeing you dance like that, and all on your own… it was an amazing thing I never thought I’d ever see, and I was so moved by it that I didn’t have the heart to interrupt you. I couldn’t have taken my eyes off you even if I’d wanted to. But then you just collapsed, right there on the shoreline, and you didn’t get back up. I saw how rough the surf was, so I ran in after you. Again, I didn’t even think about it at the time; I just knew I needed to go in there. I don't think I've ever been so sure about anything in my life.” When Baekhyun finally turned around to look at Chanyeol, his eyes were red, but he was smiling. “You nearly drowned me, too… you're pretty fucking strong, you know. And you thought _I_ was heavy.”

“Why would you put yourself in danger like that?” Chanyeol asked, shaking his head. “It could have gone horribly wrong, Baek.”

“Because no one else was there,” Baekhyun said quietly. “Because you’re a human being, and you’re worth saving. And if you only came here to tell me it was a stupid and dangerous thing to do, then you can keep that opinion to yourself.”

“I didn’t come here to say that.” Chanyeol steeled himself for a moment and said, “I told the man who I once thought was the love of my life that he broke my heart irreparably, and that I would never be able to look at him the same way again. So I'll understand if you feel that way about me too… I know that you must feel so let down right now, but I was telling the truth when I said I never meant to hide anything from you. I just know that I couldn't move on if I didn't at least try to tell you how I feel. I want you to have the complete honesty you deserve. Can I do that?”

Baekhyun hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded. “Okay.”

Chanyeol started pacing up and down the room, trying to calm himself, considering his words carefully. He stopped and looked Baekhyun in the eye, took a deep breath and said, “I don't have any other way to explain myself, except to say that I’m madly in love with you, and that learning to dance with you has made me the happiest I’ve ever been in my whole life. I was much happier when we were together than I ever was when I was well. And I don’t even remember what it’s _like_ to be well anymore, so this is kind of all I’ve got. There’s no way I’d want to throw it all away for someone who left me behind for something better. And I don’t blame him for that… I know why he had to do it, and I’m not bitter about it anymore. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to run right back into his arms just because he had a change of heart.”

“This isn’t about Jongin… I told you there’s more to it than that.” Baekhyun sighed and said, “I mean yes, I _was_ mad that you didn't tell me about him, at first, but I got over that pretty quickly. I know what kind of person you are, and you don't seem the type to string two people along at the same time. Who you were with before we met isn't any of my business.”

“But you still won't be with me,” Chanyeol said quietly.

“I can't, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun whispered. “You’re just going to have to take my word for it. And before you ask, no, it’s not because I don’t love you.”

“Then why? I think I at least deserve to know why. Because the damage is already done..?”

“No,” Baekhyun said, letting out an exasperated puff of air. “Because _I’m_ the damage.”

Chanyeol groaned and said, “can we please just be straight with each other…? I have enough confusing shit to deal with right now. I don't need you going all cryptic on my arse.”

Baekhyun gave him a lopsided smile. “You know I couldn’t be straight around you, even if I tried.”

“Please don't flirt with me, Baek,” Chanyeol said quietly. “Not if you don't mean it.”

Baekhyun's smile faded. “I’m sorry… you're right. That wasn’t fair of me.” He turned away from Chanyeol, facing the mirrors again, and resumed dancing alone.

“So are you going to tell me why we can’t be together, or what..?” Chanyeol asked.

“Can it wait? I’m not in the best state for serious conversation right now. And I need to finish the choreo for this new routine before tomorrow’s class.”

“You don't look like you're in the best state for that, either.”

Baekhyun turned around to look at Chanyeol then; his expression wasn’t angry, or even annoyed, but he looked about as exhausted as Chanyeol felt. “Please, Chanyeol… do I have to beg you to leave me alone? Is that what you want me to do..?”

“No,” Chanyeol said quietly, “I don't want that.” Baekhyun went back to dancing, and he watched him for a while without speaking. He could see the sweat beading on Baekhyun’s forehead, and all the colour seemed to have drained from his face. “You deserve to be loved, you know. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you that, but you do.”

“No one's ever told me that,” Baekhyun muttered to his reflection in the mirror.

“Well, now that it's been said to you, do you believe it?”

Baekhyun sighed and said, somewhat irritably, “I don't know.”

“Then can you at least _try_ , for me..?”

Baekhyun didn’t reply; he turned away from the mirror and stood there for a moment without moving, except to lift a shaking hand to his forehead.

Chanyeol frowned. “Are you alright? You don’t look very well.”

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun said, through gritted teeth, but he didn't look fine at all. He looked pale and sick, and his legs were wobbling, and Chanyeol was certain he'd be falling over sometime in the next few seconds.

“Maybe you should stop and have a rest,” he said. Now he was genuinely worried. “You look like you're about to collapse.”

“Maybe you should let me practice in peace,” Baekhyun snapped, making no effort to hide the anger in his voice. Then Chanyeol saw his eyes roll back in his head, and he dropped to the floor.

“Shit.” Chanyeol rushed over, falling on his knees next to Baekhyun; he put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “Are you okay? Say something..”

“Do I look like I’m okay…?” Baekhyun sounded so exhausted that he almost wheezed the words out.

“I told you not to push it,” Chanyeol said angrily. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Last time I checked, you were a music therapist, not a doctor.”

Chanyeol decided he’d ignore that last comment. “You can't over-exert yourself like this… you need to take it easy.”

Baekhyun didn’t reply. He started rolling around on the floor, trying over and over to get back up on his own, but he couldn't. It was awful to watch him frustrating himself to tears like that; Chanyeol just kneeled there next to him, horrified, not knowing whether to pull him up or to give him his space.

“No,” Baekhyun whispered, lying still for a moment. Then there was a loud sucking of air, followed by a sort of choking, sobbing sound, and he started rolling around on the floor again. _“No no no—”_

Chanyeol grabbed both of his shoulders in an effort to keep him still. “Baek, stop it, please…”

 _“Look at me! Look at where I am!”_ Baekhyun cried, shoving Chanyeol away with what little strength he had, and then he started writhing on the floor like a creature possessed. He wasn’t just crying, but sobbing so hard that Chanyeol was worried he might choke; but he took Baekhyun's hand in his own, enclosing it with his fingers, and Baekhyun let him. Chanyeol stayed there next to him, holding his hand in helpless silence, watching him gradually wear himself out.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” he said, when Baekhyun appeared to have calmed down. Baekhyun said nothing; he had his head turned away from Chanyeol, and didn’t look in his direction. To Chanyeol’s relief, he’d at least stopped thrashing around on the floor.

“How long have you known?” Chanyeol asked quietly, still rubbing Baekhyun’s hand in a gesture of comfort. “Please tell me.”

Baekhyun was silent and still for a long time, his reddened eyes focused blankly on the floor beside his head. “My relapses over the past several months seemed to be getting more severe, and I wasn’t fully recovering between each one, so… I booked myself in for a scan. I found out the results about two weeks ago.”

“And..?” Chanyeol breathed in and held it, waiting for Baekhyun’s response.

“There are different kinds of lesions found on the brain and spinal cord in MS patients,” Baekhyun said quietly. “In addition to the ones I’d always had, the scan picked up several new lesions, of a different kind.” He drew a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. “They’re only found in patients with secondary progressive disease. And I guess I knew this was coming; they tell you when you’re first diagnosed that it’s only a matter of time before the illness becomes progressive. I just thought… well, I hoped I’d have a bit more time.”

“You're not… you know.” Chanyeol paused for a moment, swallowing hard. He felt sick, like he might faint. “Are you…?”

Baekhyun sighed. “No… I’m not dying, Chanyeol. But one day, I’ll be permanently disabled. Soon I won’t be able to walk without assistance… and eventually, maybe not at all. And if you can’t walk, you can’t Merengue.”

“So you won’t be able to dance anymore,” Chanyeol said. Baekhyun said nothing in response, but the look on his face was the answer Chanyeol needed. “Well, do you know how long..?”

“No,” Baekhyun whispered. “But it’s coming. I can already feel it.”

Chanyeol chewed his lip while he pondered this. “I can't believe you kept something like this from me.”

Baekhyun let out a bitter little laugh. “Yeah? Look who’s talking.”

“That was different. I didn’t _want_ to keep the narcolepsy from you.”

“Let me put it this way.” Baekhyun paused for a moment, sniffing, and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. “If you can't handle the thought of waking up next to a fucking spastic every morning, then please, just get out while you can.” He was quiet, and then he said, “no offence, but I’m not sure you’ll be able to cope.”

The words were so sharp that Chanyeol felt himself deflating instantly. “Well, how is that supposed to make me feel..? And please don’t use that word. I work with children who get called things like spastic and retard all the time, and I know how much it hurts them.”

“Please, just go.” Baekhyun was crying again; he covered his face so that Chanyeol wouldn’t see him, sobbing into the crook of his elbow, and the plea in his voice was a knife to Chanyeol’s heart. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I’ve already seen you like this.” Chanyeol lay down next to Baekhyun on the floor, facing him; hesitating for a second, he reached out to touch Baekhyun’s forehead. When Baekhyun didn’t flinch or push him away, he moved a little closer and began to stroke his hair. “Tell me,” he said quietly, “what are you so afraid of?”

Baekhyun sniffled for a moment and then was quiet. “You haven’t,” he whispered. “Not this bad. And it’s only going to get worse.”

“So what? I’m not going to just leave you here to go through this alone. Do you really believe I would do that?”

“You can't take care of me, Chanyeol. You're not well either, and I know I can’t expect that much from you. I’m just trying to protect myself.”

“From what?” Chanyeol asked. For a while, Baekhyun didn't reply — he just lay there facing Chanyeol but not looking at him, staring blankly at the clenching and unclenching fingers of his shaking hand.

“From having to watch you walk away from me, at a time when I might really need you,” he said quietly. “Even more than I do right now.”

Chanyeol pursed his lips. “This is why you’ve been trying to push me away, isn’t it?”

Baekhyun nodded. He sighed and said, “You know, I don’t really give a shit about the Jongin thing... I didn’t mean to be so horrible to you that night. I just… I knew I was in love with you, and then I saw him. And I thought, how am I going to compete with someone like that — who has a history with you, and is _healthy_. I couldn't bear it, the thought of you belonging to someone else, when I'd finally allowed myself to believe that maybe you could actually be mine. And all I could think to myself was _you had it coming all along, because of what you did to Suzy_. How could I ever fool myself into thinking that I deserved to be happy with someone new, when she was dead and buried because of me? When I found out I was getting sicker, I thought, good — _he_ can have you back, then. Maybe it’s better for everyone involved. It was like you'd been granted a lucky escape, in a way, from me and my future misery.”

“What happened to Suzy had nothing to do with you,” Chanyeol said. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault but the person who did it.”

“I know that,” Baekhyun whispered, “but it doesn’t make it any easier.” When his eyes finally met Chanyeol’s, they were wet again. “The thing is, dancing with you, and just being with you, made me really happy too; so much that it only made me even more scared, knowing that it gave me more to lose. And fine, maybe being this way won't kill me. But if it ends up robbing me of everything I love, how can anyone tell me that’s not worse?”

“Can you get up, do you think?” Chanyeol whispered.

Baekhyun grunted with effort as he tried to lift himself up from the floor. “I don't think so.”

Chanyeol nodded and slowly got to his feet. “Hold on. I'll see if anyone else is around… maybe I can get some help. You just — stay right here.”

Baekhyun was quiet for a moment. “Is that meant to be a joke..?”

Chanyeol stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at Baekhyun again. “Um… yeah, kinda,” he said, with a nervous little smile. “Well, more a figure of speech, really.”

As soon as he said this, Baekhyun started to laugh — hysterical, breathless laughter. He was laughing so hard he sounded like a braying donkey, and Chanyeol couldn't help it -- Baekhyun’s laughter made him burst out laughing too. But his body was unprepared for it, and the resulting exhaustion hit him like a train; he was breathing hard, and his chest felt painfully tight, his brain so heavy he thought it'd fall out of his head. The expanding feeling behind his eyeballs, that crushing weight. He staggered around, tried to make it to one of the chairs on the side of the room, and then he fell to his knees and passed out. While he was asleep, he dreamed about dancing again, this time the Viennese Waltz in a grand ballroom, with gold frieze on the walls and a polished parquet floor, like something out of an old film. It was Baekhyun in his arms this time, and they danced with such grace and ease. Counting the steps in his head, _one, two, three._

 _Sweet dreams are the cruelest, aren't they?_ Baekhyun had said, that night when they lay together on his sofa; his gentle hands in Chanyeol’s hair, the faraway look in his eyes. _Especially when they show you what you desperately long for. What you once loved dearly, and know you can never have again._

Chanyeol woke up on the floor, opened his eyes and looked around. Baekhyun was still lying there a little way over, in much the same position as before, his body seizing up with the occasional spasm. In the throes of cataplexy, Chanyeol couldn't move at all; all he could do was turn his head a little and blink. Couldn't even call out for help. He lay there and watched Baekhyun jerk around a few more times, until he eventually relaxed.

“Are you alright?” Baekhyun asked. “You started laughing, and then you collapsed.”

“I’m okay. You..?” Chanyeol sounded drunk, but at least he could speak again.

“Over the worst of it, I think. Might be down here a little while longer.”

“Hold on,” Chanyeol said quietly, “I’m coming for you.” Another minute passed without him making any movement whatsoever, and Baekhyun broke the silence by bursting into wheezy laughter again.

“Why are you laughing at me..?” Chanyeol frowned, not knowing whether to join in or be a little offended.

“Because,” Baekhyun said, “you're still in exactly the same spot.”

“Well, I can't really move much at the moment… give me a break, will you?” Chanyeol couldn’t help laughing a little too — he was already on the floor, anyway, and how much lower could he get?

“It's nice to hear you laughing again,” Baekhyun said. Chanyeol could see him smiling. “Just sucks that it does that to you.” He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “so now what?”

“I think I can move now,” Chanyeol replied. The strength had gradually returned to his arms and legs. He still felt too weak to stand, but he rolled slowly over the floor until he lay next to Baekhyun, and reached for his hand, which felt warm and small and clammy in his own. He held on to it tightly, his heart fluttering at the feeling of Baekhyun's fingers slipping through the spaces between his. “See?” he whispered, “I told you I’d come for you.”

Baekhyun met his eye for a moment, and then he looked away. “Don't look at me like that,” he mumbled.

“Like what..?”

“Like you feel sorry for me.”

Chanyeol smiled. “This isn’t pity… it’s tenderness.” He moved a little closer to hold Baekhyun in his arms, and began stroking his hair again. “When Jongin left, I thought no one else was ever going to want me like he did; that I was too much hard work for anyone to love. I’ve been so afraid to feel anything, for fear of getting hurt… and then you made me see how wrong I was to think that way. So no, I’m not going to stop wanting you. If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to try a lot harder.”

“But one day, I won't be able to dance with you anymore,” Baekhyun said quietly. “I won’t be able to dance _at all_. I’m not going to be the same person you fell in love with; I'm going to be bitter, and angry..”

“Then I'll just love you anyway.” Chanyeol wrapped his arms tighter around Baekhyun’s body, whispering into his hair. “We can still dance together, you know. You can stand on my feet, and we’ll do a slow waltz around our living room whenever you want to, for as long as you want to. We can do it until the day I can no longer hold you up. I can't promise you a perfect life, or even good health, but I can promise you that.”

“You’re not scared…?” Baekhyun whispered.

“Of course I’m scared. But if loving you is the only brave thing I do in my life, then that’s fine with me. Making you happy is enough. I don’t ever want anyone else but you.”

“Okay. God, what a pair we make.” Baekhyun said this drily, but there was at least a little humour in it. He looked like he had tears in his eyes again, but made no move to wipe them away. “It’ll be a while before I forgive you, you know… for almost drowning like that. Scared the absolute shit out of me.”

“Yeah? I can wait.” Chanyeol kissed Baekhyun’s forehead first, and then the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He didn't have to wait too long; as always, all it took was that one kiss for Baekhyun to melt in his arms, and then it seemed that all was forgiven, at least for now.

“I love you too… but you can't just kiss me like that every time I'm shitty with you,” Baekhyun said, smiling against Chanyeol’s lips. “That’s not how this is going to work..”

“I know. But you have to admit it’s effective. A little.” Chanyeol caressed Baekhyun’s lower lip with his thumb before kissing him again, and then again after that. He had no idea how long they lay there for, wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing for what felt like hours on the studio floor — which was hard and uncomfortable and looked like it hadn’t been swept in half a century, now that Chanyeol was in a position to inspect it closely. They probably could have got up and walked out on their own feet a while ago, if they wanted to… but maybe they didn’t want to. Maybe this was as good a time and place as any to let Baekhyun feel the extent of his love, the size and the weight and the depth of it, on the very floor where that love was built; here where it was safe and they could both fall endlessly, without any hurt or fear. He loved the way Baekhyun couldn’t help but smile into every single one of their kisses, both his hands on either side of Chanyeol’s face; his warm arms and warm lips, their legs all tangled together. The unmistakable, unfathomable love in those beautiful eyes, as endless as the sea.

“Well, okay — maybe a little.”

_epilogue._

Chanyeol woke up with his face half-buried in Baekhyun's hair, wrinkling his nose at the tickle; smiling to himself, he wrapped his arms tighter around his sleeping boyfriend’s warm body, pulling him in closer. He still wasn't quite used to it, opening his eyes every morning to find Baekhyun there, beautiful and serene in sleep; if Chanyeol awoke first, he sometimes just lay there in silence and gazed at him, feeling like the luckiest man on earth, until he woke up.

Baekhyun stirred and lifted his head at last, his eyes fluttering open at the sound of Chanyeol quietly humming _‘Tiny Dancer’_ in his ear. “Morning,” he said, with a sleepy little smile that had Chanyeol’s heart melting instantly.

“Morning,” Chanyeol whispered. “How are you feeling today?” They always asked each other this same question upon waking. He began to stroke Baekhyun’s hair, lovingly smoothing it down in all the places it was sticking up; he’d stopped dyeing it red a while ago because it was too much effort to maintain, but if Chanyeol was honest, he liked it even better in its natural black. Baekhyun leaned into his touch like a kitten, making purring sounds in jest, which made them both smile. He rolled away for a moment to stretch out his arms and legs, wriggling around with a little hum of contentment.

“Well, I can move around, so… I’d say I’m pretty damn good.” He'd managed to kick the covers off himself in the meantime, now gloriously naked for Chanyeol to devour with hungry eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Chanyeol laughed a little, and it made him feel woozy, but only for a few seconds. He was letting himself laugh more often, and since he was safe in bed right now, it didn’t really matter anyway — he could fall as hard as he liked here. These were the good days, and he was going to enjoy them while they lasted; he and Baekhyun both knew that the love they built up in the happier times would only end up carrying them through the harder ones.

Baekhyun cuddled up closer to him, kissing his neck and whispering, “how about you, my love… are you doing okay?”

“I’m doing great.” Chanyeol pressed a soft kiss to the top of Baekhyun's head. “Sleepy, as always. But apart from that, great.” Baekhyun chuckled softly and gave him a sweet and proper good-morning kiss — morning breath notwithstanding. “You say that every day,” he whispered, and Chanyeol couldn’t argue with that.

They'd been together for six months now — the best six months of Chanyeol's life, he often said. “You mean _so far_ ,” Baekhyun always threw in at the end, in typical eternal-optimist fashion. Life had its ups and downs, but being in love with Baekhyun was easy. It was almost _too_ easy, in fact, to the point where Chanyeol sometimes pinched himself to check that it wasn't a dream, that things really were as good as they seemed to be. They were both joined at the hip now, much to the amusement of Chanyeol's friends. But Chanyeol knew that they were genuinely happy for him, even when they gave him shit for it — which they did, all the time.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked, rolling on top of Baekhyun and kissing him again, feeling Baekhyun’s legs wrap themselves around him; Baekhyun had one hand on Chanyeol’s hip, rubbing slow circles into his skin, his only response a deep sigh into Chanyeol’s open mouth. They made time for this sort of thing most mornings: cuddling, kissing and playing around, which usually led to more. Dr. Kim did recommend regular exercise, after all, and as much as Chanyeol loved dancing with Baekhyun, the horizontal tango was still his favourite form of physical activity; it was important to maintain that level of intimacy, even though Baekhyun was often too exhausted to do much more than lie there, and Chanyeol himself usually fell asleep in the middle of it. Whenever this happened, they both just laughed it off and started again, and the fact that Baekhyun had a healthy sense of humour about these things only made Chanyeol want him even more. Sometimes their bed felt like their whole world, and it was easy to spend a lazy weekend morning cuddled beneath the covers, losing themselves in each other's love for a couple of hours, with a nap or two in between.

“I think you already know what I want to do today,” Baekhyun murmured between kisses. “If I had my way, we wouldn’t leave this bed until tomorrow.”

“We can’t horizontal-tango the _whole_ day away,” Chanyeol said, although the idea was certainly tempting. “Anyway, don’t you want to go and watch Big Smokey come down? Today’s Demolition Day — or D-Day, if you prefer.”

“Exactly… today’s _D-Day_ , the Day of the D. So you better give me what I _D-serve_ —” and then Baekhyun could no longer speak from laughing, because Chanyeol began tickling him to shut him up. It wasn’t always the most effective weapon on someone whose body was constantly numb, but Chanyeol knew quite a few of his weak spots after several months of thorough exploration. “You’re naughty,” he whispered; one of his hands slid down over Baekhyun’s leg, hoisting it up a little higher around his waist. “I’ve never met anyone as naughty as you.”

“But you still love me, right?” Baekhyun asked, and Chanyeol leaned down to kiss him once more, whispering, “baby, I love you even more than sleep.”

Baekhyun laughed at that. “That’s a lot, isn’t it..?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol replied, smiling into the kiss. “It’s a lot.” He pinned Baekhyun down on the bed, peppering sweet little kisses over his chest, all the way down to his stomach — he was a little softer in the tummy now that he was dancing less and gradually losing muscle tone, but Chanyeol loved it, finding it cute and sexy just as he always had. He loved the gentle tug of his boyfriend's fingers through his hair, the smell and taste of him, his sighs of pleasure and longing when Chanyeol mouthed love-shaped bruises over his hips, kissing all the way down to his thighs. His body, gorgeously imperfect — untamed and unpredictable like Chanyeol’s own — was a beautiful dream that Chanyeol loved waking up to every morning, a dream just as thrilling as it had been the first time. Like Baekhyun's love, that dream never seemed to fade; it only got better and brighter as time went by.

But their days didn't always begin so perfectly. There were plenty of mornings when Baekhyun woke up in pain, his whole body wracked with spasms. Relapses came more often and hit him even harder, making him so weak that he could sometimes barely walk as far as the bathroom on his own; on one particularly bad day, he’d fallen over and pissed himself before he got there, leaving Chanyeol to find him crying with shame and frustration on the floor in the middle of the hallway. At such times, Chanyeol felt powerless to help him, feeling out of his depth just as Baekhyun had warned him he would; all he could really do was just be there, and once he resigned himself to this fact, the hard days seemed easier to cope with. Sometimes he sat on the edge of the bed, on days when Baekhyun couldn’t bring himself to get out of it, and played a song for him on the guitar, singing sweetly to soothe him; Baekhyun always told Chanyeol that the music helped him greatly, even when he felt his worst. “I’m just here to make your life easier,” Chanyeol would reply, always with a smile. “Making your life easier makes me very happy.” And it was true — he was even starting to see why his friends got such a kick out of it.

“I wish I could make _yours_ easier in some way,” Baekhyun said to him one day, and Chanyeol just pulled him into his arms and kissed him softly. “Just love me,” he whispered, “that’s all I want. I couldn’t ask for anything else.” He had his own share of problems, plagued as he was by sleep attacks and the occasional hallucination, but the best part was that when the nightmares were over, he would look at Baekhyun sleeping peacefully beside him and be reassured that whatever terrible thing he saw wasn't actually there. Sometimes Baekhyun woke up and helped him through those nightmares, holding him close and gently stroking his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. He’d bring Chanyeol back to the land of the living with whispered words of love and comfort; _it's alright, I'm here. You're safe with me._ It was always easier for Chanyeol to drift off again in the warmth of Baekhyun's arms, lulled back into sleep by the steady beating of a heart that loved him, his fevered visions soothed away by soft kisses to his brow and the knowledge that all was well again. Everything would be just fine.

“Okay. Ready?” After they’d finally dragged themselves out of bed, Chanyeol gave Baekhyun his weekly injection on one side of his bum, and then gave the other cheek a playful little smooch. He’d learned how to help out with Baekhyun’s injections in case the time came when he couldn't do it himself, and now Baekhyun trusted Chanyeol enough to let him do it every time. Chanyeol remembered being squeamish the first time he did it, but these days he could get it done without a second thought. “There,” he said, “all finished.”

“Did you just kiss my bum…?” Baekhyun sounded scandalised, but only in a joking sort of way.

“Yep. I love your bum. And you. Not necessarily in that order.” Chanyeol pulled Baekhyun’s pants back up and hugged him around the waist for a moment, smiling to himself. “Did you enjoy it as much as I did?”

Baekhyun just laughed and said nothing more.

“Right.” Chanyeol got to his feet and headed over to the kitchen, with Baekhyun following close behind him. “Are we all good to go, then?”

“Uh-huh. Did you take your meds?”

Chanyeol swallowed his daytime pill with a glass of water, then opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out to show Baekhyun that it was gone.

“Good boy.” Baekhyun grabbed Chanyeol’s hand, swiping the keys from the kitchen bench on his way past. “Let’s go.”

They saw hordes of people out in the streets from the window of the bus, all making their way towards the centre of town to watch Big Smokey’s last hurrah. “Funny,” Chanyeol said, “I didn’t even think that many people lived here. Must be quite a few out-of-town visitors today.”

Baekhyun sat up to face the window, with both his hands pressed up against it like a bored child on a long drive. “It’s really buzzing out there, isn’t it? I’ve never seen this place so lively.” He turned around again and smiled at Chanyeol, leaning forward to give him a kiss; he never seemed to have any qualms about showing affection in public places, and Chanyeol only loved him all the more for it. “So will you be joining me for class on Monday night? I know you’re busy, but it’d be nice to have my favourite partner there.”

Chanyeol smiled, reaching over to push Baekhyun’s hair away from his forehead. He pressed a soft kiss to his brow and said, “of course… you think I’d pass up a chance to dance with my sweetheart?” He winked and added, “I’d have to be either dead or asleep.”

Baekhyun was teaching fewer classes these days; not because he wasn’t well enough, but because he was training to become a dance therapist, which left him less time in the evenings. It had been Chanyeol’s idea originally — just a random thought he came out with during breakfast one morning, and he’d been surprised to come home that same night and find that Baekhyun had already found and enrolled himself into a course. “If I’m not going to be able to dance anymore one day,” he said to Chanyeol, “then I’m going to use it to help people while I still can.” Chanyeol had been so touched by this that he’d started crying on the spot, and then, naturally, he’d fallen asleep — but what else was new?

In a way, everything and nothing was the answer to that question. Chanyeol still attended Baekhyun’s ballroom classes whenever his own work schedule allowed it, no matter how tired he was at the end of the day. If Baekhyun was having a good day, he danced along with the class, with Chanyeol acting as his partner; otherwise he would sit down at the front of the room as he usually did, calling out instructions and showering his students with encouragement. The point of it all, Baekhyun always said to them, was to be happy and healthy dancers, not perfect dancers. Dancing was good for you, and it was fun, and a great method of self-expression — it didn’t need to be anything more than that. He hadn’t mentioned how much he missed competing in months, and Chanyeol could tell he was happier for it; he was sure that this was the kind of dancer his boyfriend was always meant to be, the kind who shared his love for it with those around him, spreading joy in the process. With each day that passed, Chanyeol thought he couldn’t be any prouder of Baekhyun, or any more in love, but Baekhyun only continued to prove him wrong. He knew his love for Baekhyun was the main reason he’d felt so inspired lately, his collection of therapeutic piano pieces for sleep disorders finally finished a few months ago, after so many years; now he was working on another collection of pieces for relaxation and pain management, which he hoped could one day be used in a number of clinical settings.

The bus dropped them off at the base of the hill, and they chased each other up it until Baekhyun got tired; Chanyeol piggy-backed him the rest of the way, until he got tired as well. They both collapsed onto the grass, where they sat holding hands and waited for something to happen. There were already a few other people around, sitting on camping chairs and picnic blankets spread out on the ground. Chanyeol knew that most people would be sticking to the centre of town, which was closer to the plant site; the view up on Hill 60 was better but more distant, although Chanyeol didn’t mind — it was nice to have a good view of the ocean at the same time. There was excited chatter all around them, with people getting their phones and cameras ready to catch the stack when it came down. Chanyeol’s friends would all be watching from the rooftop of the pub, and he and Baekhyun would go and join them for a celebratory drink afterwards — a non-alcoholic celebratory drink, in Chanyeol’s case. Not that little Avoca blowing its giant stack was really much to celebrate, in his opinion, but many other things in his life at the moment were.

“Look at them all,” he said, looking at all the people surrounding them — more and more were climbing up the hill to join their families and friends, dragging more chairs along with them; it was funny that the destruction of something both scorned and celebrated could bring so many people together. “Why are we all so excited about a chimney stack being blown up, anyway?” He couldn’t help being amused by it; it seemed like the kind of thing only people in a small industrial town would get worked up about.

“I guess it’s not something you see every day,” Baekhyun said, and Chanyeol had to agree. “Don't you think the skyline's going to look so empty now? It’ll take a while to get used to, I reckon.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “There’s still the mountains if you look out west,” he said. “Anyway, I’m sure they'll replace it with something else that’s big and ugly soon enough.”

“Why not something big and beautiful?” Baekhyun planted a messy smooch on the side of Chanyeol's face. “They can pay you to stand there instead.”

“Very funny,” Chanyeol said, with a dry little laugh. “We all know I'd be lying down much of the time, anyway.”

“Ah, but you always get back up again. That's the important thing.”

“Well, sure — eventually.” Chanyeol smiled and paid Baekhyun back with a kiss on the forehead, just as a murmur began to erupt among the people sitting around them. “Look,” Baekhyun whispered, slowly getting to his feet; he pulled Chanyeol up to stand with him, pointing over towards the old plant. “There it goes!”

And there it went — an enormous crack, and it teetered for a couple of seconds, then began to fall slowly, just as it had in Chanyeol’s nightmare that day on the beach. The noise from the explosion travelled all the way to where they were standing, but from a greater distance the tower’s collapse seemed so small and unthreatening, like someone blowing over a matchstick. “Goodbye, Big Smokey,” Baekhyun said quietly, and he turned to face Chanyeol for a moment, standing on his toes so they could kiss; he turned around again and Chanyeol stood behind him with both arms around his shoulders, his lips pressed to the top of his boyfriend’s head. Everyone had cheered last time, but something about the way the crowd went silent for Big Smokey’s downfall made Chanyeol feel like he might tear up; he couldn’t remember being moved like this when Little Smokey fell, but maybe that was the effect Baekhyun had on him. Every little experience they shared felt like it meant so much more.

How strange to see it come down, this gigantic thing that had touched the sky for so long, he thought as they all stood there watching. Strange and wondrous and unexpectedly bittersweet — the way it fell to the ground in one straight line with the sound of a thousand cannons, clouds of dust rising high into the air, the end and the beginning of their little world.


End file.
